Vanishing grace
by IThinkIJustGleedMyself
Summary: A/U - "No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for."
1. The start

**I've been extremely hesitant to post this, since the recent death of Cory (which I'm sure a lot of people join me in still grieving) but I've had this finished for a while, and I've practically written the whole twelve chapters of the fic, so I think it's time. And quite honestly writing has been sort of a healing procees for me, as strange as it sounds.**

**Onto the fic. It's based off the amazing playstation 3 game The last of us, and I hope that people enjoy it as much as I have writing it.**

**So, without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

The sound of tyres on gravel cause his eyes to flicker open, breaking him on the light slumber he'd fallen into. Sitting up straight on the old, battered couch, he rubs his tired eyes and focuses his sights on the opening door. His Mom steps in, sporting her own exhausted face. Dull brown eyes meet his, and she sighs with that exasperated tone where he knows she doesn't have the effort to scold him properly.

"Finn, you're supposed to be asleep."

"I couldn't, Ma."

She joins him, her body sinking into the couch with ease, head leaning back. Casting a gaze his way, she replies, "and why not?"

Becoming restless now, he finds himself fidgeting, body bursting with excitement, "in a half hour, it'll be my birthday. I'll finally be nine, Ma." Despite her tiredness, her lips tug into a smile. "What'd you get me?" Finn leans in, his own smile growing cheekily, "that bike I wanted? Or maybe that Play station 2?"

Her shoulders slump, "maybe...maybe not something as fancy as that." She reaches over, running her fingers through his overgrown hair, trying to rid the feelings of guilt as his expression falls. "Hey, buddy, I'd get you everything you wanted if I could, but I've got a mortgage to pay."

"What's a mortgage?"

"Just..." she forces on a smile, "silly adult things. Nothing for you to worry about." Finn begins to yawn, his attempt at stifling it with his hands doing nothing to fool his mother. "Right, come on, up to bed, kiddo."

Immediately, he shakes his head, "but I'm not tired."

"How do you know unless you try to get to sleep, hmm?" She pulls herself to her feet, reaching out a hand for him. "And as soon as you're up tomorrow, you can have your present."

"Promise?"

Carole smiles sincerely toward her son, "I promise." They ascend the staircase together, their hands locked the entire time. As they reach his room, she hoists him up onto the bed, chuckling to herself as he shimmies himself down and under the covers. Carole takes over, tugging them up further and tucking them around his body. "There you go, nice and cosy."

He grins, "still not tired."

"Just close your eyes," she litters soft kisses along his hairline. He does, but one instantly peeks open. "Finn," she begins, in a tone of warning.

"Only twenty five minutes until my birthday," he chirps.

She casts a glance over her shoulder at the clock, "it is. But you're already my big boy, right this very moment."

"But I'll be even bigger tomorrow," Finn smiles to himself. "I can't wait."

Her fingers brush across his cheek, "hey, don't be in such a rush to grow up. It's not as exciting as it's made out to be."

"Pfft, yeah right," he dismisses the idea, "grown ups can do way more." A sad smile from his mother follows, but with his closed eyes he doesn't see. For that, she's glad.

"No more talk for tonight. It's time to sleep." She rises to her feet, "goodnight, sweetheart." Then, she smiles, "don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Ma, there's no such thing as bed bugs." He shakes his head at the nonsense, before mumbling, "night." His small body twists in the bed, scrunching up the comforter into a ruffled mess. Carole watches from the doorway as his breaths slowly become shallower and he slips into his dreams.

* * *

"Ah!" he shoots up in bed at a succession of loud bangs, followed by a shrill scream. Covered in goosebumps, his gaze does a full scan of the room, finding nothing but stillness. All he can hear is his erratic breaths and overexcited heart. With a _thud_, his bare feet drop to the carpeted floor, dragging him in search of the noise. "Ma?" he calls out into the hallway, wondering if she's watching one of those late night films again.

Opening the door all the way, and cringing slightly when it creaks uncomfortably in the silence that now looms around him, he steps out into the dark hallway.

"Ma?" he cries out once more.

Nothing.

Taking in a steady breath, he forces one foot in front of the other. His eyes aren't focused in the dark yet, so they squint to make sense of the surroundings in the pitch black. Finn rubs at his sleepy eyes, reaching the top of the stairs and clinging to the banister. He can feel the bumps where he chewed on it as a toddler engraved in the wood.

Another bang causes the boy to jump out of fright. "Ma, is that you?" he questions, eyes hidden behind a shimmer of fear, and face paling. Still, he feels his body betray his mind and begin moving downwards. What if she needs help?

An inhuman sound halts him in his tracks.

"Mommy," he hears himself whisper, "please." His head swims with confusion as to what's going on, and what is that noise? Is he still dreaming? Is he lying in his bed right now? A cold breeze wraps around him, nipping at his skin. All of a sudden, the kitchen door bursts open, and his neighbor rushes through, but... but...

Something isn't right. His eyes don't carry the usual warmth that he sees from the man, and his face snarls like a wild animal, red liquid pouring from his lips and down his chin. Finn finds himself frozen in time, convinced that he's seeing things, and that... _thing_ is nothing more than imagination. Sinking into the shadows, he tries his best not to be seen, but small whimpers betray him.

Those crazed eyes lock on him. It suddenly screeches, then sets full pelt in Finn's direction. The boy panics and shouts, "Ma!" in fear. Unable to keep his eyes off the monster, he drags himself up the stairs backwards. Fingers grasp at his ankle with incredible strength, bringing Finn down the steps with a scream. His gaze rises to meet the living nightmare, its mouth open and ready to strike...

A gunshot is heard, and the next thing Finn knows there's a dead weight on top of him. Crying and panicking, he struggles to squeeze himself out, before he looks up to see his Mom, standing in the doorway with a gun in her hand. She drops the weapon from her shaky, unstable hands, the realization that she's just shot somebody, or some_thing_, hitting her. He takes wobbly steps toward her, unable to stop himself from peering at his attacker again, more tears coming as he wonders what on Earth made his neighbor change so.

"Finn," she breathes out weakly, moving to envelope him into a tight hug. The feel of her arms around him, of her welcoming scent, comfort Finn, and he relaxes in her grasp. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" She looks over him worriedly, checking his whole body for a sign of damage, then making to grasp his face between her hands and insisting, "everything is going to be fine."

"What happened – why did he..." Finn shakes his head, tears bunching up in his eyes, "what's wrong with him Ma?" He feels confused and frightened, clinging to the support of his Mom. While she hugs him, his eyes wander to the gun that he didn't even know she had.

"- more cases like this." He blinks when he realizes she's been talking to him this whole time, "we have to go. I have to get you somewhere safe."

He frowns, "where?" What does she mean somewhere safe? What's going on?

She's already picking him up, wincing slightly. "I don't know. Just... not here." Her hand finds the gun, tucking it in the back of her jeans, before she bolts toward the door and out to the car. Finn's eyes widen in horror when he sees the scenes around them; people screaming, running, and... more of those things... they're running too. Placed in the car, he can't see for a moment, and when he returns his sights to the outside, he almost wishes that he couldn't see. A woman is knocked over, suddenly a swarm of creatures on top of her. She is screaming, crying out for help, but nothing comes for her, and before it ends his Mom pulls him into a tight hug, pressing him against her shoulder. Soft whispers follow, then her arms rock him back and forth.

But that doesn't eradicate the sounds from outside, of those people that they're not helping. Then again, _could_ they help them?

"Ma," he begins, unable to control the tears from flowing.

"I know, I know."

She wipes at her own eyes, then tells him to buckle his seatbelt while she starts the engine. It clatters into life loudly, lights blinking into life, and then he hears it.

Running.

_They're running toward the car._

His Mom revs the engine, the car jolting backwards and onto the street. The scene that unfolds before of them is truly one of horror. One throws itself at the window, colliding with a loud _thud_ that rattles through to his bones. He screams, and his Mom speeds up the car. The entire time she mumbles profanities, her voice hinting at disbelief to the whole situation. She turns to get onto the 71, but immediately pushes on the breaks.

"Are all these people leaving too?" he asks, sitting further up in his seat to peer out at the hundreds of cars jammed onto the highway.

She doesn't answer him. Her eyes, instead, are drawn to a few cars ahead of them, where a couple are being dragged out and attacked. "God help us," she whispers while stifling a sob. Manoeuvring the car backwards, she gets them off the road, headed the other way and through the town. Frightened citizens run from buildings, through the streets in a panicked mess.

"Look out!" he yells as the car doesn't stop in the wake of those running, knocking over some innocent people. All he can hear is screaming. His Mom, the people, and those monsters. He cover his ears, and scrunches his eyes closed, just wanting to be somewhere else. The car skids to the side, squeezing through the gap between a turned over truck and burning building. It's as though the world around them is falling apart.

Before he even gets a chance to say anything, he turns, just in time to see another car headed their way. "_Mom_!" he screeches.

And just like that, the blackness swamps over his vision.

* * *

Smoke infiltrates his nostrils, then his eyes start to flicker open. They focus slowly, the shadows and movement becoming more detailed, more real. He feels hands on him, shaking him fully alert. Widening his eyes, he turns to him Mom, "Finn, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he mumbles, ignoring the ache of his muscles and the way that his head bangs. She helps to pull him from the wreckage of their car, as he stares at the mess of glass and metal that remains. Turning his head, he suddenly calls out, "Ma, there's a - " Finn never gets a chance to finish as the person running toward them with that frightening growl drops to the floor, blood spurting from its head. He stares, then takes in a deep breath.

"You alright?" the voice of his teacher, Mr Schuester, makes him blink and stare at the man. All he does is allow them to nod, before leading them away, "it's not safe on here. We need to go to the alleys." All running, they head for the side streets, Mr Schuester dragging a metal gate open for them before slamming it shut. He drags a dumpster in front of it, before leading them into one of the buildings. "The infected will get through. We need to leave the city."

"Infected?" Carole cries, "what do you mean, _infected_?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know. Something that attacks the brain, turns them into those... things. It's happening all over the country. East coast, West coast. Folks are going crazy."

Finn's eyes widen, "Ma, I'm scared." The thought of being changed into one makes his heart quake. His Mom squeezes his hand in reassurance, and pushes him through the door first, screaming when an... an infected reaches for her, grabbing at her arm. Quicker than he can blink, the thing's been shot, dropping to the floor like a fly. They manage to get the door closed, their panting hardly being heard over the cries of the infected.

"We can go this way. We'll have to walk," Mr Schuester begins as he walks into the baron grasses. There's no one else going this way, which both scares and relieves him.

"It's the only way," Carole agrees, beginning to walk with him. He feels tense, constantly looking back at the town that he once called home, wondering if he'll ever return to it, wondering what the future holds. If this is just one small town in Ohio, then what does the rest of the world look like right now?

They walk, and his Mom cries. He's not exactly sure why, but the entire time she clings onto his hand. Maybe she's sad, maybe she's scared just like him. As she peers down his way, he tries to smile in return, though finds himself physically unable to. The screams become quieter; his fear does not.

"Stop where you are!" a sudden voice calls out, and a man in a uniform steps from behind the small hills of ground.

"Thank God," he hears Mr Schuester say, "we need help. There's a child with us, and -"

"_Stand back_!" He waves his gun at them, "Sir," he speaks into a walkie talkie, "found three civilians on the city limit. Please advice." Finn feels himself step back, pulling him Mom with him. "Yes, I understand. No sir." Lifting the gun back up, he shouts, "show me your arms and legs."

In the face of the weapon, he quickly lifts up his pajama shirt and pants to show his skin, as does Mr Scheuster. He turns to him Mom, seeing her completely still. "Ma, do as he says." She shakes her head, eyes widening.

"I-I can't."

"Carole," Mr Schuester begins in warning.

"I - " A single tear rolls down her cheek, and she then moves to her sleeve, where there's suddenly blood that he hasn't noticed. She slides it up, teeth clenching in pain, where he then sees the vicious bite on her arm.

Frozen in horror, all he can do is stare. "Oh God," he hears his teacher saying, wrapping his arm around his chest and pulling him back. "I'm so sorry, Finn, I'm so sorry."

"What? But how...?" he shakes his head, "Mom?"

Before she can respond, the soldier steps forward, gun in hand, and shoots. It can barely be heard over Finn's sobs.

* * *

_"The number of confirmed deaths has past three hundred. The Governor has called a state of emergency…"_

* * *

_"There were hundreds and hundreds of bodies lining the streets."_

* * *

_"Panic spread worldwide after a leaked report from the World Health organization showed the latest attempt at a vaccine failed."_

* * *

_"…With the bureaucrats out of power we can finally take the necessary steps to…"_

* * *

_"Los Angeles is now the latest City to be placed under martial law."_

* * *

_"All residents are required to report to their designated quarantine zone and -"_

* * *

_"Riots have continued for a fourth consecutive day as winter rations fall to an all time low."_

* * *

_"A group calling themselves the Fireflies have claimed responsibility for both attacks."_

* * *

_"Their public charter calls for the return of all branches of government."_

* * *

_"Demonstrations broke out following the execution of five more alleged Fireflies."_

* * *

_…_

* * *

_"__**You can still rise with us.**__"_

* * *

_"Remember…"_

* * *

_…_

* * *

"**_When you're lost in the darkness…_**"

* * *

"_**Look for the light…"**_

* * *

_"Believe in the Fireflies."_


	2. The deal

**20 years later**

* * *

_Summer..._

* * *

Finn paces around the room, fingers brushing against his lower lip as he tries not to worry over the fact that Santana was supposed to be back over two hours ago. He peers out of the window, or more the remnants of cracked glass that point from the pane, to see another patrol of guards headed through the street. The rations line isn't open yet, though that's not much of a surprise. Still, it means there's trouble brewing, and the government know it.

"Fucking come on," he mumbles to himself, "where are you, Tana?"

"_Look at you getting your panties in a twist over me_."

He turns in an instant at the sound of her voice. "Where the hell have you bee - " his eyes catch sight of the bruises and cuts over the tan skin of her cheekbones, along with the red split lip, "what the fuck happened?" She looks worse than usual, the material of her old, leather jacket scuffed and torn, while there are dirt stains all over her jeans.

"Relax, I got the ration cards. Enough to last us months." The small cards are dropped to the table, but Santana seems to have more pressing matters. She makes her way over to him, dropping her head in a sigh.

"And this?" he points to her wounds.

"I ran into a couple of assholes on the way back here." Hearing that, he feels his blood boil, wishing that he'd been there to teach them bastards a thing or two. "But that's not important." Then, she peers up, eyes glimmering, "I found Karofsky."

"What?" he stops worrying his lip, staring at her in disbelief, "you're lying." Somehow, the man's managed to elude them for days now, ever since screwing them over and selling their guns.

Santana shakes her head, a smirk growing on her lips. "That fucker's been hiding in this warehouse, sending other people to do his dirty work.," she gestures to her swelling cheek to make a point, reaching to dab a cloth in some alcohol.

"_Karofsky_'s men did this to you?" he asks softly. Finn then sighs, "come here." He helps her to clean the cuts, eyes watching over her with care. "Tell me what happened."

"They jumped me out of nowhere, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I sorted them out. _Besides_, it's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to that fucker." Her hands curl into fists, knuckles whitening with anger. "He's owed us those guns for days." Santana's face hardens further. "No more chances."

"No more chances," Finn repeats quietly, staring down, "so what now? We go pay him a little visit?"

She nods, "he's out in a warehouse in Unit 5. But you can bet your ass that he's going to be hiding behind all his cronies."

"Fucking coward," he mutters. Moving over to the door, he holds it open for her, "ladies first."

"I ain't no lady."

Still, she moves forward and out into the blinding sun. Finn is on her tail, sauntering through the streets and taking in the world around him. Over the last few weeks the zone has been deteriorating. Less food means more desperate people, and that desperation turns into anger. The only retaliation is the army being more brutal – not only that but enforcing a stricter regime, with diminishing rations and a tighter curfew. Not that that's ever stopped him and Santana. For as long as they've been partners in this crazy world, they've had each other's backs, and they're always one step ahead of everyone else.

As they walk through to the gate, they see a woman trying to attack the guards, earning herself quite a beating. He watches from his peripheral vision, wishing that there was something that he could do, but intervening could mean his life and if there's one thing he's learned in all these years it's to survive. Keep your head low and just _survive_.

"It's not long until we end up like all those other zones," Santana says, "deserted." She glances back to the woman, now on the floor and crying, "she knows better than to fight"

"It's best to leave the fighting to the Fireflies," he mumbles.

They fall into silence, where only the sound of their boots hitting the floor reaches their ears. A car grinds to a halt up beside them, bringing out a couple of teenagers, who fight against every move made, "we're not infected! The scans are fucking lying!" They struggle against their bindings, to which the officer hits one with the barrel of his gun.

"Get them in there!" he pushes him inside an enclosure, not batting an eyelid as the kid falls to the floor with a painful hit to his face. He crawls onto his back, moving away with fear in his eyes. The gun is lifted and a shot aimed directly to the head. It hits, his body slumping instantly, the eyes now holding a lifeless shine.

Finn turns a glance the other way, slowly headed toward the guards patrolling the gate.

"Your I.D's," he commands, resting his gun to the side. He hands them both over, waiting for them to be checked over. "What's your business here?"

"Visiting a friend," Finn lies.

"Alright," the I.D's are handed back, "go on through." He nods in acknowledgement, stuffing them in his back pocket and stepping forward through the open gate. He isn't prepared for the explosion that occurs right in front of him, shaking the ground with immense force and making him duck for cover. Thick smoke bursts upwards, filling the air with an acidic smell.

The soldier pushes him out of the way, "get out of here! Go!" he shouts, dragging the gate closed once more. Finn is on his feet in an instant, slowly moving backward. The heat for the explosion can still be felt on his face and his ears ring loudly.

"_It's the fucking fireflies!"_ Another yells, all soldiers headed over to the source - the now burning vehicle.

He feels Santana looming behind him. "we've gotta go."

"_Unit 5 is now on lock down. All citizens please evacuate the area immediately._" A voice calls over the city, the usual monotonous sound making Finn sneer. Still, he turns himself around and follows the lead of Santana, who's already got the door open of the nearest building.

"So much for the easy route," she mumbles as he steps inside. The door closed behind him, they tread forward within the decrepit rooms.

"Yeah."

"We'll take the Eastern side – we should be able to get there without running into any patrols."

Finn frowns, "when is it ever that easy?"

The two share a knowing look, both figuring what they're going to do when they get their hands on Karofsky. Truth be told, Finn has been pissed at the guy ever since entered the city, acting like he runs the fucking joint. The thing with Karofsky, though, is that he talks a lot of shit and makes too many deals that he can't keep; Finn always knew that one day it would get him into trouble. Looks like that day has arrived.

They find Clint in his usual spot, "how is this side lookin'?" Santana questions as he joins them in their walk.

"I went through there this morning. No patrols and no infected."

"That's what we like to hear," he nods.

The man cracks a smile, "what're you doing down there, anyway?"

"Looking for Karofsky."

"You too?" His eyes grow in surprise.

Finn peers his way, looking on with confusion, "we're not the only ones looking for Karofsky?" It's not a surprise, not really, but he's curious.

Clint shrugs, "yeah, Quinn has been asking around, too. Reckon' he's in trouble with those Fireflies." They enter the final room, where vines grow through the window panes and onto the battered, old couch. "Here we are. You need any help?" he asks, gesturing to the large shelving unit pushed in front of the hole to keep it hidden.

"We got it." Finn and Santana take their respective places, the object grinding out of the way as they push it. He groans while shoving its weight, grateful when they're done and he can take in a deep breath. Peering to his hands, he sees them covered in grime and wipes them along the fabric of his jeans worn jeans "Okay, let's go."

"Good luck," Clint offers, patting Finn's back. _We'll need it_, he thinks. As quietly as possible he enters the tunnel, switching his flash light on.

"It hasn't been long enough since I last came down here," he tells Santana.

"Let's just hurry up."

They do just that, which is easier since they're so familiar with the place. Though it's not allowed, the two often sneak into the city and out of the quarantine zone. How else are they supposed to survive, to get the goods they need? The government's lying to them, to everyone, and it's not going to be long until it all goes to shit. Maybe they'll move to another city, or perhaps they'll find themselves victims of another uprising.

The rooms are dark, darker than he remembers, but he still manages to see his backpack sitting in its place. "Look, our stuff from last time," he points it out to Santana. "Make sure that we've got as much ammo as possible." He frowns, stuffing his gas mask into the bag, "I have a feelin' Karofsky's men ain't gonna go down without a fight."

"Yeah, I have that feeling, too," she responds gravely.

He gets his guns in the bag as well, then swings it onto his shoulder, "alright, I'm geared up. You ready, Tana?"

"Ready to kick Karofsky's ass? Fuck yeah."

"Right, down this way." He leads her out of the room, through the maze of the building. Some rooms have been cordoned off by fallen over furniture, or by the building itself, collapsing under the test of time. It's a sad sight to see.

"_Fuck_, look at that," Santana stops him, "spores." He peers ahead, seeing the cloud of the little, white fuckers.

Finn sighs, shoulder shrugging off the backpack, "let's get those gas masks on. God, I swear it was clear last time we came down here."

"It was," she replies with a chilling tone to her voice. The two step into the spores, something which already unnerves Finn, even if he doesn't let it show. He never knows if something's going to go wrong, and he may end up infected. What will happen then?

"You sure he's in that warehouse?" he tries to change the subject.

"Positive." She smiles cockily, "I got my ways, Hudson."

His gaze peers away from her, before he mutters, "don't I know it."

Soon enough, they're free from the confinements of the building, finding themselves in the abandoned parts of the city. Well, abandoned by the soldiers. There's no telling who you may run into. The pair slowly enter some sort of settlement, an abundance of eyes watching them, as though hawks watching their prey, but they keep their heads high and stride through, their sight set on nothing but the warehouse.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" One squares up to him, though no one really comes up to his full height.

Finn scowls, when it's Santana that dissipates the tension, "he's with me, Henry. Back down."

"Oh," his grip on his weapon loosens, "I didn't realize…" As Finn makes his way past, the grimace on his face doesn't disappear.

"Get down!" Santana orders as soon as they arrive in the small area. "A couple of Karofsky's men, straight ahead." He ducks behind an abandoned car. "You see 'em?"

His eyes scrutinize the area, "yeah, I got 'em." Finn reaches for his pistol, taking one out with a clear aim to the head. There's no time for celebration as the next needs to be dealt with, this time a shot to the knee, disarming the bastard, before shooting straight through the neck. "Easy," he says aloud.

Santana is instantly up, "they probably heard those shots, let's get out of sight." With stealthy steps, they move through buildings and through alleyways. Santana's brain is like a map to the area, and she never takes them down a wrong turn. Just as he's about to sprint around a corner, her hand forces him against the mold ridden wall. "Wait, just listen."

Finn strains his ears, body stiffening against the hard wall when he hears them talking.

"_So who's this bitch that we're keepin' an eye out for_?"

There's a sigh, "_someone that the boss fucked over. Apparently she got the better of two of our guys this morning_."

"_Dude_."

"_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_," he recites, "_and I hear she's still on Karofsky's tail. That's why he's so fuckin' paranoid_."

"_I'd sort out that bitch if I ever got the chance."_

His body fills with rage, wanting nothing more than to strangle that fucker. Turning to Santana, he sees a look of pride on her face. "Looks like I got him quakin' in his boots. As for these idiots, let's sneak up and take 'em out quietly." Finn nods, glancing around the corner and seeing them headed their way. He places a finger to his lips, a sign to Santana, and keeps an eye out in the reflection of the car window before them. They wait for the opportune moment, before pouncing on the pair and strangling them. His struggles, more so than usual, but his iron grip doesn't sway, relentlessly blocking the air from his lungs. Soon enough, his body slumps against Finn's, and he drops it to the ground carelessly.

"Come on."

Just as they step into the open, gun shots surround them, and they retreat, reaching for their own weapons. "Fuck, how did they know?" he curses.

"Reckon' he's had patrols out all day." She pulls up a gun in either hand, "his mistake." With that, she throws herself out of their cover and begins shooting, one shot after the other. "Hudson, get your ass out here!"

"I'm comin'" he growls, jumping behind the nearest car and aiming at those going for Santana. He hits the floor, just in time to throw a hit in her direction. She ducks, rolling out of the way, and is back up in a matter of seconds. Finn smiles; she certainly is impressive. He tries out his own moves, making every shot count. But there just seems to be more and more, so many that he can't keep count.

"We're fucking outnumbered," he hisses her way.

"When has that ever stopped us before?"

His head snaps her way, "we got lucky before."

"And we're going to get lucky now," she announces, as she reaches for something in her bag. Finn can't see what, as he's too busy trying to take this guys out and trying not to get shot in the head, but the next second he sees flames flying through the air.

"_Shit_!" he screams, hiding down behind the car just as it explodes, a wall of flames appearing around the men. They cry for help, fire stuck to their bodies. Running away will do them no good.

"What the fuck was that?" he stumbles over to Santana.

She grins, "a new toy. It's called a Molotov."

Finn nods in glowing awe. "I like it."

They check over the area once more, over the mess of dead bodies, which they then walk through to find themselves facing the warehouse. "Time is up, bastard," Santana announces, holding her gun to her chest, prime and ready to kill. He follows suit. They can't use the stairs, which fell down long ago, so are forced to use the dumpster to pull themselves onto the second floor of the building. A bullet skids along his arm, searing the skin, "ah _fuck_!"

"Got it," Santana takes out the sniper with ease, "no sign of Karofsky yet."

"We'll find him."

Inside the building, he picks up any supplies that he needs and moves with agility, keeping his ears and eyes ready for anything. "Maybe he's in his office," she supplies, "wouldn't surprise me. A coward like him."

Finn peers up her way, kinking an eyebrow, "you have any idea where this office is?" She nods firmly, "this way. And hurry, I'm not letting the motherfucker get away with this."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Moving once more, they check the whole area, both sure that there must be some more of his men lurking around. That soon slips from his mind as he sees the office in sights, and right now he just wants to get his guns back so that he can go home. Well, what _home_ is now. He steps forward, allowing Santana to go first, and as he makes to follow, a pair of strong arms wraps around his neck. Taken by complete surprise, he lets them dig in, starving him of precious breaths. Then his senses become alert, his ears picking up the jagged breath to the left ear. Instinctively, his elbow goes to hit the guy, knocking him back, and that gives Finn the power in the situation. Grabbing a discarded pipe, he swipes it back and forth, feeling the impact of the hit surge through the metal. He does so again, pushing the guy to the ground. One final, well placed hit has him dead, a huge gash on his head.

"You got him?"

He nods, taking back his breath, "yeah, he's gone." Finn discards of the pipe on the floor, following Santana as she stomps toward the office, kicking the door open.

It's empty.

"That _fucker_!"

"Wait…" he says, stepping into the room. He eyes the window, and moves toward it, seeing just what he wants. "He's on the run. Come on!" He jumps out first, hearing the footsteps of Santana behind him. Both aim their guns for Karofsky, one bringing him to the floor. They slow their pace, already close enough to him, and stop before the sleazy man.

"Well," Santana begins, placing her boot on his back and grinding it down, "look who we ran into, Finn."

"Please, Santana, don't do this."

"Shut the fuck up," she warns him with a menacing stare and the barrel of her gun pointed his way. "Why should I fucking listen to anything you say? You're a worthless piece of shit." Finn takes his opportunity to lean down, straightening out Karofsky's arm. "Where are my guns?"

He shakes his head, giving out unsteady breaths, "I don't… I don't know."

Finn sighs, reaching for his finger with his own rough hands. He waits a couple of seconds, before pulling it backwards, the usual crunch being heard by all. "Ahh, _fucking_ hell." Karofsky scrunches his eyes closed with the pain, breathing through clenched teeth.

"Where are the fucking guns?" Finn demands to know, eyes cold as ice.

Karofsky still doesn't budge, weaselling out some shit about how they're stolen. "Tell us the truth!"

He sighs when the man keeps his mouth shut, this time forcing his whole arm the wrong way. "Shit, shit shit shit," he chants, on the verge of tears. Santana asks again, Finn now reaching for the other arm. "No!" he begs, "please no." He struggles under the weight of her foot, wincing at the pain from the gunshot and his arm. "I-I owed the Fireflies. I fucking owed them. I _had_ to give them your guns."

"Now, you see there," Santana growls, "that is not what I wanted to hear." Finn finds his blood boiling to hear the fact that his guns are with the fucking _Fireflies_ of all people.

"We can go get them," he pleads.

"And how do you fucking expect us to get them back?" he growls in Karfosky's ear.

The man is desperate now. "The Fireflies are low on numbers. We could take them out, the three of us. Yeah, and then you'll have your guns back. All of them, I swear."

Santana stands, her eyes meeting those of Finn's, before she shakes her head. "That," she pauses, "is a fucking stupid idea." And then she shoots a clear shot through his forehead. His body seizes in all struggling, and she pulls her foot off, pacing back and forth. "What do we do now?

Finn stands too, eyes briefly looking to the dead body before them. He then casts a glance over to Santana, "we find ourselves a Firefly."

"Easier said than done."

"Well, it appears as though luck is on our side," he responds.

She gives him a confused look, something that he doesn't often see from Santana, then follows his line of sight where they find Quinn standing a few feet from them. "The Queen Firefly," he then says, "to what do we owe the pleasure?" His voice remains as usual, lacking in any emotion. He notices that she looks more tired than the last time he saw her, eyes duller.

The blonde steps forward, appearing to be holding onto a gash on her side. "Have you seen Karofsky around?"

Santana nods, "sure have." Then she steps to the side, revealing the body as some sort of trophy.

"Shit," Quinn begins, rubbing her forehead softly. "We needed him."

"That piece of crap?"

She sighs, "we had a deal."

"Yeah, and so did we. But that bastard," she kicks his lifeless body, "sold all of our guns, to _you_. So now we have a problem." She folds her arms, waiting expectantly.

Quinn takes a step forward, standing her own ground. "Look, I can't just give you the guns back. In case you haven't noticed, we ain't been doing too well around here."

"No kidding," Finn says, nodding to her cut.

"Oh that, that's nothing," she shrugs it off, "but we're been losing men every day. It seems like we've always got a patrol of our asses." Finn nods, knowing that feeling, but right now the Fireflies are the least of his worries. He needed those guns to get him and Santana supplies in order to survive. "But I can make you a deal."

He frowns, "what do you mean?" He doesn't exactly want to be messing with these guys, seeing as they're such a target for the military.

She keeps it simple, leaning her weight against the wall. "I need something smuggled out of the city. And I'm not exactly in a condition to do it myself, am I?"

"What do you need smugglin'?"

"Does it matter?" she asks, "you get it where I want it and I'll give you your guns, and then some." He finds himself glancing at Santana, who certainly looks interested in the idea. He, however, is more cautious. The city may have patrols and the soldiers, but that means that there aren't as many infected, it means they're safe. Out there, it's anyone's game, and he's not sure whether he's ready to gamble his life.

Just as he's contemplating it, movement catches their attention. Quinn groans, peering down the rooftops, "another fucking patrol. We need to get off the streets." Her eyes rise to meet theirs, "follow me." Not even given a chance to say otherwise, the three move within the shadows cast by the buildings, following Quinn to this safe room. "Get down!" she orders after a few minutes of moving, "there are some ahead. Just… watch your back."

Finn crouches down, trying to keep his body as low as possible. These soldiers aren't the smartest guys out there, but they'll shoot at anything they see moving. He has his gun handy, just in case. He's a better aim, and is sure to take them out quickly. "_Attention. Curfew is now in effect. Anyone caught outside without proper authorization will be arrested and prosecuted_," the monotone voice echoes around the city.

"Which way now?" he asks as they find themselves staring at a ledge. "We ain't getting over this."

"There's a plank," Quinn nods in the direction, the movement weak, "over behind that wall there"

He's quick to retrieve it, placing it carefully so that the rooftops join. Quinn goes first, followed by Santana and then finally him. Below them, the soldiers march, completely oblivious to those moving within the city unauthorized. The three march on ahead, though he feels worried for Quinn, who continuously holds her side in pain. Still, curiosity sparks inside him; what could be so important that the Fireflies need smuggling out of the city? Surely they could wait, until Quinn or someone else were up to it. Why recruit strangers in for their job? He frowns – it just isn't like them to do this.

Santana seems to read his expression, whispering to him, "whatever it is, don't argue and we can just get our fucking guns back."

"You're the boss," he sighs.

"Right, here we are," Quinn says, keeping her voice low. Suddenly, a soldier lunges from the darkness, ready to strike. But he's not fast enough, not against Santana who is on him in an instant, tunnel vision on her target. She shoots three times in all, ensuring that he goes down.

Quinn drags in a deep breath, "holy crap. I thought we'd lost them."

"He must've been on our tail this whole time," Santana says, "let's get hidden before any more find their way up here."

"Gimme a hand, will you Finn?"

He nods, aiding her at the door. While she tugs on the handle, he uses his weight to force it open, catching Quinn as she stumbles forward, the injury having taken its toll on her. She drops to her knees, groaning softly. "Whoa, whoa, I got you," he mumbles, guiding her to sit herself down, "I got you, it's okay - "

"_Get the fuck away from her_!" a voice suddenly pipes up, leaving Finn barely enough time to turn and see some kid with a knife, aimed for him. He recoils, thankful when Santana is there to intervene, pulling the knife from her grip. The girl still glares their way, attempting to push past Santana who is having none of it.

"Hey, hey, hey," she warns.

The girl ignores her, eyes darting for Quinn and seeing the way she hides her wound, "oh shit, what happened?"

"I'll be fine," Quinn reassures her, "I-I got us some help." The girl peers around at Finn and Santana, her face difficult to read, "but I can't come with you."

"Then I'm staying with you."

"Rachel," she stops her, closing her eyes, "this is our only shot to get you to the other Fireflies."

Finn suddenly puts two and two together, eyebrows dipping in confusion and annoyance, "wait just a goddamn second, we're smugglin' _her_?" He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, "no fucking way."

Quinn steps forward, stumbling slightly and looking grateful when Rachel comes to her aid, "there's a group of Fireflies at the Capitol building – they'll meet you there. You hand over the girl and all the weapons are yours."

"Capitol building?" Santana scoffs, "that's not going to be easy to get to."

"That's why I asked you two." She moves her gaze from Santana to Finn, "you're capable, I know it. And when you come back, I'll give you double what Robert sold me in weapons. You in?" The two consider it, trying to make sense of each other's expressions.

It's Santana who speaks first, "I ain't smugglin' shit until I see the guns."

"They're back in our camp. I'll take you to them, get myself fixed up," she pauses, looking to Rachel, "but she isn't going to that part of town." Rachel frowns instantly, opening her mouth to protest. "I want him to stay with her," she nods to Finn.

"_Bullshit_, I'm not doing that!"

"Whoa, I'm not down for babysitting."

Both responses come out angrily, but Quinn keeps her cool. "Rachel," she scolds.

The girl steps forward, making it so her back is faced to Santana and Finn, before she whispers to Quinn, "how do you know these guys?" He can hear the genuine concern in her voice, though it's understandable. She doesn't know them, and the number one rule in this world is to trust practically nobody. "Are you sure about this?"

"I knew his friend, Will," she explains, "he told me that Finn could help if I ever needed it."

"Was that before or after he left your little militia group?" he laughs dryly, dark eyes glancing across the room.

Quinn's eyes narrow. "He was a good man, Finn, and you know it."

"Pfft," he shakes his head, hand running through his stubble. Before anything else is said, Santana steps by him, grabbing his arm. "We're not really doing this, are we?"

"Take her to the North tunnel and wait for me there," she orders.

"Santana…"

The woman holds her hand up, silencing him, "she's just cargo, nothing else." His eyes turn back to the girl, trying to argue her case to Quinn, but it's not working. Not at all. The last thing he hears is her deflated sigh before she slumps her shoulders and peers his way slightly. He grimaces, shaking his head.

"This is bullshit."

"I'll be back soon," Santana assures him. "Just… be careful." She steps over to Quinn, while Rachel slowly makes her way to him, sulking the entire time.

"Come on, kid, and don't fall behind."

"I'm not a fucking, kid," she mumbles under her breath, as he opens the door and leads her out.

* * *

**And so, the adventure begins.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed this fic and reinforcing me in the thought that it was a good idea to post it :) Also thanks for all the favourites, subscriptions and even if you just read it. It means a lot to me.**


	3. The mess up

**I'm so happy to see people enjoying this and intrigued by the storyline. Hope that this continues! :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

They step out, Finn staring up at the late evening sun as it begins to fall in the sky. "Just do as I say," he orders bluntly, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulder, "and we won't have a problem." He turns to her, waiting for a reply. In that time, he takes a moment to give her appearance a better look. She's young, very young, her dark brown hair tied in a high pony tail, some loose bangs swept to the side behind her ear. Her eyes are large, carrying anxiety deep within, while her thick lips are pursed tightly together, and her tan skin is hidden beneath a layer of dirt and grime. A scar across her right eyebrow intrigues him, but he says nothing about it.

She seems so small compared to him, wearing a tattered red T-shirt, a gray, long sleeve shirt poking out from underneath, that fits tightly against her faded jeans. She's skinny, but then again who isn't? They're all starving, surviving on the bare minimum. "You're the pro," she mumbles to him, showing a little attitude, especially as she bustles past. "Whoa," she stops dead in her tracks, "I heard all the shooting, but... I - "

"Yeah," he stands beside her, staring at the dead body with a lack of emotion in his own hazel eyes, "the same thing'll happen to us if we don't get off the street, come on."

Finn scopes out the area, jumping up onto a small ledge when it's all clear. "Do you need any help?" he asks her when she's just about to follow him, unsure of whether her tiny frame can manage it.

She glares at him, "I'm fine." Then she too climbs up beside him.

"Down this way," he tells her, diving down a set of stairs and settling in the shadows. The roar of engines causes the pair to slow in speed, keeping keen eyes on the road. "They can't see us. Just... be quiet." Rachel nods, keeping right on his toes. Once they're inside the building, he turns to her slightly, "so where are your parents? You must be... what? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Where are anybody's parents?" she asks with a resigned sigh, "and I'm seventeen, not that it's any of your business."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses her attitude, continuing to run forward, "come on, keep up."

"I am."

The rooms around him look familiar yet at the same time are different. This always seems to be happening, those small changes. One day he might show up and find the place blocked, or to see spores appearing. "You use this tunnel a lot?" He hears Rachel's voice pipe up, casting a glance over his shoulder to find her a couple of feet behind.

Finn shrugs, "only when we smuggle things.."

"Smuggle like... _illegal_ things?"

He pauses, "maybe."

She moves closer, appearing by his side with a look of curiosity in his eyes, "what about a person? You ever smuggled a person before?" Finn gives her a look, "I'll take that as a 'no'." She looks like she wants to say something else, but keeps her mouth closed, which Finn is thankful for. He's not in the mood to be talking to this kid; he just wants the job done and to get home.

Still, there's something bugging him, "what's the deal with you and Quinn? It's not like her to hang around with kids."

"She's my, er, she's my friend, I suppose." Rachel gives a small shrug.

"Oh," he raises an eyebrow, "so you're just _friends_ with the leader of the Fireflies?" He gives a small chuckle, "what's the catch?"

Rachel scoffs, "there's no catch. She knew my Mom... promised that she'd look after me when my Mom..." He understands how she feels uncomfortable to speak of such things, as he can barely bring it up about his own Mom, so he just nods his head and keeps on walking. "Anyway, I'm not allowed to tell you why you're smuggling me." Her brows deepen into a tight knot, "so you should just give up."

Finn laughs, "hey kid, I couldn't give two shits about why we're smuggling you."

"Good," she pulls her face.

"Okay."

He reaches the room, slowly opening the door for her, "alright, come on in." Rachel looks around the scenery, taking in the grotty walls and dirtied furniture, while he throws himself on the couch, letting out a long sigh. Against the window, he can hear the sound of rain hitting the glass in that soothing kind of way that he likes.

"Now what?"

"Now..." he purses his lips in thought, "I'm going to go to sleep."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" she frowns, letting out this tiny huff. Her arms then fold across her chest tightly.

With a simple shrug, he shifts on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position for his long frame, while one eye peeks open to see Rachel giving him that same look again. She eventually unfolds her arms and moves over to the window, where she perches herself on the edge, staring out at the rain with interest.

He asks himself again what's so important about this girl, when his brain begins to drift off into sleep, which is easily welcomed after being awake since the very early hours this morning.

Finn suddenly jumps up, finding himself struggling for air as he adjusts back to reality. The night that the outbreak started often invades his dreams, and tonight it's no different. Only, this time he has a witness.

"Bad dreams?" Rachel asks from her spot at the window, having heard him mumbling away in his sleep, followed by the heavy breathing.

"Yeah," he grunts. Standing up, he stretches his arms and then rubs a rough hand over his face, attempting to wake himself up further. It doesn't work. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A couple hours."

He nods, slowing his steps as he nears her position. "You been there this whole time?" Rachel peers outside again, not answering his question with words, but by her expression, "oh...so you've never been outside before, huh?"

She shakes her head, "I've never even been this close to the outside." Her eyes don't leave the City wall that traps them all inside,"what's it like?" This time, he's the silent one. "It can't be worse any worse out there, can it?" Where does he even begin? Finn idly scratches the back of his head, but then something suddenly hits him – the Fireflies use people with experience, with a knowledge of the infected and fighting their hoards, but this girl knows so little. She's never even been outside the City. It makes _no_ sense.

"What on earth do the Fireflies want with you?" He finds himself asking. Her face drops slightly, but she's saved just in time as the door opens, and in walks Santana. She closes it after herself, staring up at him with that crazy look in her eyes. Finn knows right then that they're doing this, and there's no arguing.

"I saw the goods," she announces. "It's a lot."

"It better fucking be."

"How's Quinn?" Rachel steps forward, her face filled with worry for her friend.

Santana peers her way, "don't worry, kid. Your friend will be fine, 'kay?" The stress seems to deflate from her instantly, and she smiles toward Santana. "Alright," she begins, "let's do this. But we gotta be careful, 'cause the streets are fuckin' filled with soldiers." Rachel moves to open the door when Santana grabs her arm. "Hey, listen to me, I'm going up front, Finn will flag behind. I want you to stay right in between us, you understand?"

"Yeah," she looks between the two of them.

"Alright, let's just get to the Capitol building and be done with this." Santana orders. She holds the door open, leading the three to the room across the hall, where Rachel immediately moves to the window again, staring out at the scenery with a mix of excitement and worry.

He turns his attention to Santana, "don't you think it's weird that they're having us do their smugglin'?"

"They've lost of a lot of people. We weren't their first choice, or their second for that matter," she explains, "beggars can't be choosers." All he replies with is a grunt, moving to pull back the bookcase and reveal the hole built into the next room. "Come on." Once inside, he saunters over to the generator as Santana leads Rachel to the elevator.

"This better still have some juice in it," he outwardly prays, tugging once at the chord to get it started. It grumbles into life, thankfully, leaving Finn to join them in their decent from the building. The sound of the rain hitting the sidewalk, or what's left of it, can be heard from inside. He motions to Santana to go first, turning on his flashlight while his eyes follow Rachel.

She does as she's told, keeping near to Santana as the trio head out of the building. Beneath his feet, the rain gathers in puddles, causing the dirt beneath them to become slippery - not exactly an obstacle that he needs right now. And even with his flashlight, the dark sky manages the obscure most of the surroundings.

"So, this is the outside?" Rachel stares around in awe. He takes glances, seeing nothing but destruction. Crashed cars, crumbling buildings. He remembers when some people used to think that humanity and its creations would last indefinitely, but this shows the sad truth. He drops his head, trying not to think about that day that stole his childhood from him, but it's difficult, sometimes _too_ difficult. "It's so dark," the girl whispers.

The mud quickly masks their footprints from anyone else, the three trying to sulk in the darkness. The last thing he needs is a patrol on his ass.

"What's the deal with you then?" Santana breaks the silence, "you some bigwig's daughter?"

Rachel lowers her gaze."Yeah... something like that..."

"_Pfft_."

She turns to face him, "what?"

"Nothing," Finn shakes his head, "carry on walking."

"Alright," she groans, "I fucking know." Her eyes give a quick roll before her sight is set forward, "where is this building anyway?" They reach one of the many pipes that people use to elude the patrols, slowly slipping inside, Finn having to crouch to fit - Sometimes his height is a disadvantage when he's trying to stay out of sight.

He sighs, "it ain't close."

His eyes move upwards, seeing the movement of black shapes against the horizon. "Shit, patrols. Nine o'clock. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut." He places himself flat against the wall, body sliding against it, trying to blend in as though part of the walls.

"How many?"

Finn momentarily moves out of cover, eyes straining to see through the dark. "Two trucks, I think. Better make ourselves scarce." They all hurry, barely making a sound; even their breaths are shallower, slower. One slip up means the difference between life and death.

That is, until Rachel suddenly jumps forward, screaming out, "fuck!" She turns, staring with wide eyes at the sight of a decaying body where she's just stood. "That scared the shit outta me." Finn grabs her by the collar, shoving her flush against the wall, "hey, what are you - "

"Shh!" He practically hisses in her face.

"_What was that_?" One of the soldiers ask.

"_It sounded like it came from the trenches_," another replies, and Rachel feels herself slinking away, as though trying to hide from both Finn and Santana as well as the soldiers. She can literally feel his gaze burning a hole into her skin.

Santana suddenly sets into action again, "We gotta fuckin' move. Now!" It's clear why she initiates such a hurry, when flash lights are pointed downwards where they hide within the trenches, scouring every inch inside for the sources of the sound. They take cover behind a turned over truck, but it won't last for long. "Okay, Rachel, when I give the signal, you run over to that car." She stares at the lights, working out their movements, before hissing, "now!" The girl sprints into action, her small size allowing for agility. Finn follows, reaching the car with her and using his body to hide hers from anything else.

"Stay lively, we've got a long way to go."

She nods, looking to him for the next order. Santana quickly joins them, "right, let's just stick to the wall. They shouldn't be able to see us from there." She leads them over, acting as lookout, but jumping back when one of the flash lights barely skims past her. Finn places a hand on Rachel's shoulder, stopping her just a few feet behind his friend, who is as still as a statue.

The lights continue to probe the area, making it very difficult for them to progress. Finn keeps his gun ready at all times, held upright against his chest. "Go, go," he whispers to Rachel, "and stay away from those lights."

"Well, duh."

After a couple more minutes walking, Santana stops them, "Finn, there are too many. We might have to shoot."

"And alert them all that we're here? Yeah, sounds like a good plan," he bites back sarcastically. Santana throws a glare his way.

"Well then, what the hell are we going to do?"

Finn stops, forcing himself to think in such a hurry. Shooting would just make things worse, but how long can they keep up this sneaking before one of them slips up?

And then, some luck finally comes their way.

"_Come on, we're getting called back to the Gate_."

"_Bu -"_

"_To the Gate_," he insists.

He gives out a sigh, "good things come to those who wait, huh?" The soldiers slowly begin to retreat, leaving them to move not so secretly from the trenches and to some higher ground. Still, they stay cautious and out of the way. Who knows how many soldiers are lurking in the streets tonight?

They head into the main part of the City, finding their path blocked where the road has completely collapsed, a huge jump before them. Below, the roads looks like a broken jigsaw puzzle, becoming darker the further the descent. "Whoa, that's one hell of a drop," Rachel comments.

He sighs, "we're gonna have to find another way around this." Moving back slightly, he heads upwards toward a leaning building. It's not the sturdiest of structures, but it's one of the few ways into the City center. "Come on."

"We're going in there?" Rachel asks worriedly, staring into the dark rooms.

"It's either that or you try your luck with jumpin down there," Finn gestures to where the road ends, noticing her expression, "this building it is then." They make a small climb inside, now sheltered from the rain that falls relentlessly. Before moving to the next room, he searches through all the draws and cupboards, hoping to find something of use, as does Santana.

Once ready, he feels the paranoia setting in. "Okay, let's just do this as quickly as possible. In and out." He looks to Rachel as he gives the next order, "and be quiet, got it?"

"Yes," she says with annoyance.

"C'mon, Finn," Santana says, "focus on the job." She tries one of the doors, "it won't budge, any other way of getting in?"

"Yeah, down here." He leads them lower in the building, stopping when he hears a sound that makes his body swim with fear, "shhh, you hear that?"

Santana stops, face focused. "A clicker."

"A _what_?" Rachel cries.

"When a person's infected for long enough," she explains, "the cordyceps growth moves out of the brain and all over the head. It's kind of gross actually. But these clickers, they, ah, they use sound to track things."

"You mean, like bats?"

She nods, "exactly like bats." Slowing again, she listens and decides, "it sounds kind of close, Finn. Keep an eye out."

"Will do," he mumbles, his body low and his moves stealthy. He doesn't want to make a single sound, nothing to give away their position. After a good ten minutes of walking, Finn suddenly crouches to the ground at the sight of the exact thing he wants to avoid at all costs. Of every type of infected, the clicker is definitely the most feared. Santana must know what it is, and immediately pulls Rachel down with her. He peeks over the edge of the counter he's using as a shield, seeing the clicker amble back and forth, its grotesque, mushroom head hard to keep his eyes off.

Breathing slow, he reaches to the left for a stray bottle. The correct aim is essential, and so he tosses the bottle to the right of them, watching as the clicker lurches in the direction of the sound. All three then hurry to the next counter, this time a brick being used as a distraction. It does the trick, keeping the clicker far from where they hide.

"Up here," Santana whispers, leading them out of the room. "Up and over." Rachel goes first, landing on the other side of what seems to be a self-made barricade. "Er, guys, a little problem."

The two quickly make their way over, finding both directions of the stairwell blocked. "Well great," Finn mumbles, stepping down to see what he can do. He jiggles a desk that's in the way, "I think I can move this. Just... hold on a sec." Mustering up all his strength, he grabs the desk and begins dragging it to the side, offering a hole just big enough for them to squeeze through. It's a bit of a struggle, but his body fits through with just a couple of grazes.

As he exits their own little tunnel, he finds Rachel and Santana stood over a body. He joins them, pulling a face at all the spores growing from its head. "Poor bastard."

"He was a Firefly," Santana says, pointing to the logo banded on his arm, "that's reassuring, huh?"

Finn shakes his head, "let's get out of her before we get into any more trouble." He heads for the nearest door, trying the handle. Thankfully, it's unlocked, allowing him to step inside. He's taken by surprise, however, when a clicker throws itself at full speed toward him.

"Finn!"

He manages to hold it back with strength alone, but it's impossible to do so indefinitely with him pinned to the floor like this, and not having the upper hand. Santana grabs her gun, shooting it three times and destroying the head with a small explosion of blood and tissue. He rolls out from under it, breathing heavily, before Santana helps him back onto his feet.

They urge on, Rachel giving one last glance at the decaying body of the Firefly, worrying her lower lip. Finn watches her slowly, before moving forward where the floorboards beneath him creak, as the building seems to sway from side to side, groaning under the strain. Moving up behind Santana, he mumbles, "that was a close call."

"We're having a little too many of those," she agrees, reloading her gun, "you alright?"

He rubs at the spot on his neck, "I'm fine. It just caught me by surprise, that's all." Finn leans himself against a desk in the corner of the room, looking her straight in the eyes, "we're doing the right thing, aren't we? This ain't just some dumb endeavor?"

Santana lowers her gaze, "she wouldn't have got this far without us. Whoever this kid is, she needs us, Finn." She tries to keep her voice hushed, but Rachel stares at them as though she knows exactly what their discussion entails. "Now let's just get the job done. Come on, kid." Rachel jogs forward, just as Finn attempts to get through a closed door – their latest obstacle. Using the bulk of his weight, he barges into it with his shoulder, rattling the handle.

"Gimme a hand here," he asks of Santana, who tells Rachel to move back and they simultaneously shove at the door, though it still doesn't give the desired effect. "It must be blocked on the other side."

"_Great_."

"Let's just find another way around," he sighs, beginning to search through the other rooms, the footsteps of the others just about heard over the rain and wind. He slows as the floor starts to droop, eyes moving to an area where it must have collapsed, moss and plants growing through the shattered floorboards. Finn moves closer, inspecting the area. It drops down a few floors, at the bottom what seems to be a pool of water. Finn groans loudly, before attempting to find a safer way down; there's a small ledge just a few feet away, one that they should be able to make... Or so he hopes.

"Right, Santana, you first."

She spends no time fussing and lowers herself, judging the jump, before she finally sucks in a deep breath and takes the leap. Her feet narrowly land on the lower floor, and he can let go of his baited breath.

Turning to Rachel, he gestures for her to go next. "Are you fucking kidding me? I can't make that."

"I got you," Santana insists, "it'll be fine." But the girl looks hardly convinced, eyes struggling to stray from the water. Behind him, he hears the perpetual noise of clicking.

"You gotta go!" He grabs his gun from the holster, "now!"

Rachel frowns deeply, closes her eyes, and jumps. He watches her decent, graceful yet fast, and he can relax as Santana reaches out her hand to catch her, but then the worst happens. _Rachel didn't jump far enough_. Her fingers slips past Santana's by barely a couple of inches, though that doesn't matter; she's unable to land on the floor, instead plummeting downwards and into the dark water beneath.

"Shit!" Finn has other things to worry about, with two clickers appearing from nowhere, their screeches proving louder than Rachel's calls for help. "Santana, you get the girl! I'm going to sort these bastards out!" As he speaks, he manages to shoot one straight through the head, watching it fall to the ground in a twitching mess. The other proves more difficult, knocking him to the floor, pinning him down by the weight of the creature. His head looming over the hole, he can see Rachel barely managing to surface, screaming for Santana, and his partner rushing to get to her in time.

The gun is knocked from his hand, lying pointlessly out of his reach, and he curses, trying to hold the clicker from him with one hand while the other desperately searches for another weapon. The stench of its horrid breath makes him want to throw up, while its sharp, pointed teeth inch closer. He then remembers his knife, attached to his backpack. He reaches out, groping for what he needs. Fingers clasped around the handle of his blade, he lets it dive into the skull of the clicker, stabbing repeatedly until its body slumps into stillness. He then kicks it off him, wiping the sweat from his forehead, at the same time trying to catch his breath.

Finn's sight is then directed downwards, where he can no longer see Rachel and Santana, and he rushes downwards to find them once more. Now extra vigilant, adrenaline urging him to move faster, he quickly drops to the floor and brings himself closer to the water where Rachel had found herself. The sound of voices draws him nearer, staggering slightly but still standing.

"Hey," he greets Santana when he spies her. She doesn't return the sentiment, and he realizes that her gun is pointed, aimed at something. Not another fucking clicker, he thinks, then he lifts his gaze to find another man. Just as quickly, Finn's gun is raised. Not one to miss out, this stranger too shares the same hostility, pointing a revolver their way.

He momentarily spies Rachel, sat on the floor, coughing and spluttering for air.

"Who are you?" he demands to know.

"The name's Puck," his glare hardens, "this isn't exactly the thanks I expected for saving her ass." He gestures Rachel's way.

"We were doing fine," Santana supplies, jaw clenched.

He chuckles, "yeah, especially when she almost fucking drowned."

"I had it," she insists, "I was just about to save her before you jumped in."

Puck chuckles, "_sure_ you were."

Her gun is raised even further, "you calling me a liar?"

Before things can further escalate, Rachel is suddenly on her feet and in between them. She doesn't seem fazed staring down the barrel of a gun, and instead addresses Finn and Santana, "look, he saved me, he's not a bad guy." She nods, "otherwise he would've just left me to drown."

"He might be up to something," Finn says lowly. She's only young – she doesn't understand the true lengths that people will go through to trick and manipulate others.

"I was in here lookin' for supplies," Puck admits, "I ain't got no beef with you."

"Then what do you want?" he asks.

"I heard you guys upstairs. Figured we could help each other, you know?"

Santana glares, "what makes you think we need your help?" He can't help but agree; there isn't much anything that he and Santana can't do.

"Just stop being so fucking stubborn and listen to him," Rachel interrupts once more. At first, he and Santana are taken aback, but then slowly both lower their guns, as does Puck, and suddenly the situation feels less dangerous. Still, he eyes the man with suspicion; you can't trust anybody these days.

"Fine," he grunts, "what do you want from us?"

"Maybe we could... stick together." He begins, appearing almost nervous in his suggestion. "My group got ambushed... a whole hoard of runners just swamped us from nowhere, and now I'm the only one left..." He finds himself peering to Santana once more – it's easier to just let her make the decisions, but it's clear from the expression on her face that she's unsure.

"Tana," he begins, "a word, in private?" She nods, the two of them shifting to the corner while Puck talks to Rachel, checking that she's okay after the fall. "What you think?" he whispers to her.

Her face crumples up in confusion, "I don't know. He seems... okay. Maybe he's one of us."

Finn waits, "hmm, maybe." But maybe not.

"We could take him back to the City with us, let him stay there..."

"He doesn't seem like the type to stay in the Quarantine zone," Finn glares at him.

"_Holy fuck_!" The two turn when they hear his unexpected outburst, suddenly finding Puck with his gun aimed at Rachel, who backs against a wall with panicked eyes. Instinctively, Finn raises his own, rushing over to the pair. Even if he doesn't particularly care about the girl, it's his mission to keep her alive.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His hand grips at the punk's collar, tugging his upwards.

Puck scrambles away from Rachel, shaking his head. "She's infected. She is _fucking_ infected." Finn's blood runs cold, turning to look to the girl in complete shock. Has she been bitten and hid it from them? Surely they'd notice. And besides, they've barely let her near an infected since they entered the building. No, there's no fucking way. "You don't believe me, look at her fucking arm." He breathes heavily, pointing his shaking gun toward Rachel.

Now with three guns pointed at her, she speaks. "I can explain!"

"So, you _are_ infected?!" No, no, no, he panics. There's no way that they're going to get the guns now, not after they've let this happen. But it doesn't make any sense, unless... unless she was already infected when Quinn handed her off on them.

"I'm not infected," she insists, shaking her head frantically

Swooping forward, Puck pulls up her sleeve where there's a clear bite mark, "then how the fuck do you explain that?" Finn drops his head to the ground, rubbing at his forehead, while Santana's eyes widen.

She frowns in disbelief "Quinn set us up?"

"She didn't!"

"Then why the hell did she give us an infected girl?" he growls in Rachel's face.

She closes her eyes, practically begging them to understand. "I'm not infected. Look at this," she holds out her arm, where the skin is scarred and pale.

"I don't care how you got infected."

"It's three weeks old!"

They all stop, turning to look at her with a mixture of confusion and doubt. Santana is the first to speak. "Impossible, everyone turns within two days of being bitten." She shakes her head, unable to believe that they were so stupid, so gullible, and most of all that Quinn lied to them. Why would she? Does she want to get rid of them?

"It's three weeks, I swear." Her large brown eyes plead with them all, while she still holds out her arm for them to see. Finn peers at it, then curses – he doesn't want to believe what she's implying. "I'm immune," Rachel answers the question they're all asking. "You were supposed to take me to the Fireflies. They have this lab...their own quarantine zone. Quinn said whatever happened to me is the key to reversing the infection."

He waves off her words, "this is bullshit."

"Hey, fuck you man, I didn't ask for this!" she suddenly stands, her face crumpled with anger.

"Neither did I," he grumbles.

Puck, who's been lying low in this discussion, suddenly voices his opinion, "what if it's true?"

"You," he points his gun at the guy, "can shut the fuck up. This doesn't include you." He holds up his hands in surrender, then folds them across his chest while Finn hurries over to Santana, "what do you think?"

"I think," she begins slowly, "we get her to the Capitol building, give her to the Fireflies, and then she's their problem." A little reluctantly, he agrees. Whatever Santana says, goes, and there's no point in arguing with her, despite not entirely believing Rachel's story.

"And what about him?"

She glowers his way, "keep him, for now." Puck perks up slightly, "but if he pulls anything shoot him in the fucking head." He freezes. "You got that?" Santana's face darks, her grasp tightening around her gun.

"Loud and clear," he salutes. "Now, I don't know about you guys, but I'd like to get them hell out of here."

"That would be easy if we knew the way out," Santana retorts.

"Follow me," Puck smirks, "I know this place like the back of my hand. Been here for a couple of days now, trying to stock up on supplies, before I make my way out to Pittsburgh. I'm supposed to be meeting some friends there." He chats as he takes them through the rooms, beneath falling shelves and through the maze of what was once a working office, "I just hope there's someone there to meet me." Puck suddenly slows when he gets to the large window, giving a sheepish look, "None of you are scared of heights, right?"

At first Finn frowns; is Puck going to jump to the ground? They're at least five stories up. But he does jump, the sound of his feet hitting something metal, and an instant later his head pops up, "right let's go. Just, ah, don't look down."

Santana follows next, observing the drop with some trepidation, before she jumps onto the metal scaffolding circling the outside of the building. "Are you serious?" Rachel exclaims when it's her turn.

"You'll be fine," Santana tells her. The girl gulps, before hopping over the window and onto the scaffolding, where she quickly pushes herself up against the wall. The rain momentarily blinds her, wind whipping her stray hairs across her face. Rachel keeps her gaze high and side steps along the rickety supports. Finn brings up the end, feeling a little uneasy himself. The sun is only just beginning to rise, an orange glow melting into the horizon, but the rain clouds hide most of it.

He peers downwards, instantly regretting it when the drop feels like he's staring into an abyss. Uneasy, he clings to the walls with more grip, following the others.

Thankful when they make it back inside, he checks up on everyone and then continues, taking place upfront. "Let's see if we can get out on this floor." He suggests.

"There are a couple of rooms which leads out near some rooftops." Puck joins Finn, opening the door, "only a few minutes awa – ah!" Suddenly he falls to the ground, an infected fighting for a spot at his neck, though it's quickly taken care of by Santana.

Finn steps into the room, eyes widening, "Fuck! Rachel, get down." He reaches for his rifle, "Runners, too many of them!" There are at least ten, the sound of the gunshot most likely having attracted more. He shoots one, and then another. Santana and Puck back him up, while Rachel, though gun-less, tries to help by throwing the rubble at the infected to distract them.

"Hey, Ohio, a little help!" Santana yells his way when two manage to get the better of her. He takes one out clear with a bullet to the chest, while the other is more stubborn. His blade already handy, he gets behind the runner, swinging the knife around so that it slams into the back of its neck, bringing it down. Puck manages to take a few out himself, proving to be a good aim.

Just as they think they're out of the woods, they hear the garbled noises of more runners headed their way. "Move!" he yells, running away from the noise, only turning back to take a quick shot at one, but it's less than perfect aim.

"In here!" Puck cries, throwing open a door and waiting for the rest to follow through. Rachel is the last to make it, helping to get the door slammed close when a hand shoots through, clutching at her shoulder. Screaming, she tries to get away, but the grip is too strong, even when Santana and Finn attempt to pull her free. Santana pulls out her gun, shooting at the shoulder, which causes the creature to recoil. Three four of them get the door firmly shut, breathing heavily as they stand and absorb what just happened.

"Er," Finn frowns, "you got something..." he reaches to her shoulder, brushing off the fingers that had been detached from the creature as they closed the door. They fall to the ground in a bloody mess.

"_Gross_," Rachel mumbles, her nose scrunching up in distaste.

He moves onto more pressing matters, "everyone alright? Santana?" For a second, he worries as she stands with her hands on her thighs, attempting to catch her breath.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. A little shook up." She closes her eyes, "there were so many."

Finn nods, "Rachel?"

The girl gives a shaky sigh, "define 'alright'"

"Still breathing."

"Do short, panicked breaths count?" She looks up to him, and it's only then he realizes how small she looks, how small and scared.

"Yeah, they count."

"Then," she begins, "then I'm alright."

"Puck?" He turns, brows furrowing, "Puck! Where is he?" Searching the entire room, he finds no sigh of the man. "Hey, dude!"

Suddenly he pops up at the window leading outside. "Sorry, I didn't hear you... There's a way across here." He grins, "told you I knew where I was going. Now come on." Finn sighs, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, before he gathers himself together and jumps out of the window. From here, the City is in full view, the rain now becoming lighter and more sparse, so that they can see the morning sun. Puck places down a couple of planks, turning to Rachel first, "be careful going up, 'cause it's gonna be a little - "

"Psshh," she interrupts him, getting up and walking across without letting him say anything else.

"Alright then," Puck pulls a sour face, gesturing for Finn to go next. He does so, walking far enough that he spots what they've been looking for.

"Capitol building, right over there," he points it out to everyone, hearing someone walk up beside him. He turns, not expecting it to be Rachel. She stares at it with a thoughtful gaze, leaning forward slightly as she sighs. Finn doesn't know why, but he just feels the need to speak. "Well, is it everything that you had hoped for?"

"Jury's still out," she replies, "but man, you can't deny that view, huh?"

"Hmmm."

For at least a minute, they stand there and think to themselves, a strange serenity taking over the City, especially considering what they've just been through. Finn, however, is relieved that the job is almost done; only he hopes that those Fireflies they came across weren't a bad sign of what's to come.

"So," Puck suddenly appears on Rachel's other side, "you gonna tell us how you got bitten, or are we just going to be left here wondering?" Finn rolls his eyes, making his way over Santana, but still keeping an ear out on the conversation. Though he denies it, he _is_ curious. He's never known someone to be immune before; he didn't even think it possible.

She glares towards Puck, "does it matter?"

"Not really, but come on, I wanna know."

"Fine," she sighs, "When I was in this military boarding school, I'd sneak out a lot. I just, you know, wanted to see what things were really like, to _explore_. So, I was in this mall, somewhere on the other side of Boston - "

"How did you get in a mall? I thought they all got blocked off after the quarantines?"

"They were, but I have my ways," she smiles smugly, voice practically singing, "_anyway_, we were just checking stuff out, when we ran into those... er, what you guys call runners, and that was that."

"Did it hurt?"

Finn finds himself facing Santana, who sits on a pile of pallets upon the roof. From where he stands, he can barely hear the other two talk, but it's okay; he's already learned what he needed, "hey, you sure you alright?" She looks a little off, but instantly shrugs off his concern.

Her eyes meet his, "I'm a little winded. I'm sick of these fucking things."

"Aren't we all?" he sits himself next to her. "Sometimes I just wanna wake up and for this all to be some fucked up dream." Santana nods in understanding, but the expression on her face makes it clear that she knows it's never going to be the case. At the sound of Rachel's laugh, she peers toward the girl, eyes softening. "What?" Finn asks.

"I like her," she smiles, "she tells you what's what." He responds with a small grumble, "ah, you noticed, too." Sighing, Santana slowly gets to her feet, "come on, we're almost there."

They exit the back door, finding themselves in a closed off alley. "Now what?"

"We find something to get up there," he points to a small ledge, where half a stairwell has broken off, "keep an eye out for anything we can climb on." He moves within the confined space, stopping when he finds another body slumped against the wall. Thankfully, the poor bastard just looks as though he's died of something other than the infection, and he knows that they're safe.

In his hand, he has a scrunched up ball of paper, which Finn leans down to pick up. Within, it shows a map of the City, the Capitol building circled with red ink. On the side, it reads, "_17 years old, brown hair, 5 foot 2. Make sure the girl is fed and cared for_." He peers up to Rachel, it being pretty clear who the note is about.

"He has a firefly logo on his arm," a small voice begins. Finn notices the girl in question, feeling the little hope he had slowly fading away. "What if we get there and they're all dead?" It's scary how wide her eyes get, brimming with worry.

"They won't be," Santana insists, as Puck suddenly appears with a dumpster, which Finn goes to aid him with.

Rachel remains static. "But how do you know?"

"I just... I know," Santana says. In a quieter voice, she says, "they _have_ to be there."

"Right, let's get up," Finn orders, the four all climbing up onto the small ledge, which they quickly cross and drop to the other side. Just across the way stands the Capitol building, the brilliant blue dome still shining despite its lack of care in the last view years. "Home stretch," he mumbles, starting to jog over toward it. Still, he really has a bad feeling nagging, his stomach feeling in knots.

In front of the building, a shallow gathering of water faces them.

Rachel frowns, "errr, I don't know whether you guys noticed, but I can't exactly... swim." She stares at the overgrown puddle with trepidation.

"Well no shit," Santana grumbles, "it, ah, it looks shallower on this right side. Just stick with me and you'll be fine." They step into the green surfaced water, wading softly through it.

"I'm glad that Quinn hired you guys," Rachel admits.

"What do you mean?"

She hesitates, "look, I know you guys are getting paid, but this is my, er, my way of saying thanks."

"Sure thing."

After that, they return to their silence, focusing on the task in hand, where they run up the stairs to the grand doors. At first, they don't budge, so Finn steps back, using one forceful kick to the locks to get it open. The doors swing open quickly, revealing what they all have dread. On the floor two Fireflies lie in pools of their own blood. "Shit," Finn drops his head in defeat, the question of _what now_ haunting him.

As soon as Santana notices, her face falls, "_no_!" She runs over to the first one, chanting the word over and over with varying degrees of upset.

Rachel looks utterly lost, "what do we do now?" She peers up to Finn, as though he has all the answers.

But Finn can't concentrate on her words as Santana desperately searches the body, "Santana, what are you doing?"

"They have to have a map, to say where they're going. This... this _can't_ be the end of it."

"How far are we going to take this?" he asks her, voice rising.

"As far as it needs to go!" She stands up, hurrying toward Rachel, "where is this lab of theirs? What did Quinn tell you?"

Even after knowing Santana for so little time, she can tell that this is out of character for the woman. She shakes her head helplessly, "I don't know... I – all she said was some place out west."

"_Santana_," Finn growls, "this is not us!"

"What do you know about us? About me?" She drops her head, trying to hide her expression, "we're shitty people. We have been for years."

Finn frowns, "we are _survivors_." He tries to control his temper, to keep his voice down.

"This is our chance to do some good," she shouts, "after all the fucked up shit we've done, this is the one chance, Finn."

"_It is over_!" he screams, rendering complete silence within the room. Rachel and Puck stay away from the heated pair, not wanting to be on the receiving end. "Now let's just go home, there's nothing left for us here." Finn reaches for her arm, but she shrugs him off, face as hard as stone.

He goes again, this time Santana says, "no, Finn. This... this is my last stop, I'm not going anywhere."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" He doesn't like the direction that this conversation is going in, the way that Santana looks so sullen. It unnerves him to no end.

"Our luck had to run out some time, right? That's what you always said."

Stepping forward, he moves to touch her shoulder gently, but she shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Don't touch me. _Please_." Finn feels his heart thumping in his chest, his body turning numb.

"Holy shit," Puck begins, piecing everything together, "she's... infected." Santana doesn't react; she doesn't cry, she doesn't deny it. She just... _stands_ there, with that same sombre expression on her face. Finn scoffs, eyes shining with disbelief. Then he turns back to Santana, noticing the way she looks toward him, and his heart sinks.

"Let me see it," he harshly whispers.

"It was an accident, Finn - "

"_Show me_," he demands. Her brows crease together, then she pulls back her collar to show the fresh wound. "I don't – it's not real." It's a desperate attempt to avoid the truth, but he just can't admit it. This can't be happening; _not_ to Santana.

She rushes over to Rachel, grabbing her arm and yanking up the sleeve. "Look at this, Finn," she points to Rachel's bite, and then to her own, "and then this. And you fucking tell me which one looks worse." She holds back the tears, "An hour ago. I was bit an hour ago, and her, three weeks. This is fucking real, Finn." Santana steps toward him, going to touch his chest before pulling back, eyes closing, "you have to get her to the Fireflies."

Finn grabs at his hair in frustration, eyes scrunched closed. He can't think properly. "No, no, Santana, that was your crusade. Not mine."

The woman stops, her face becoming softer once more, "after all these years, Finn, this is all I'm asking from you." She points to Rachel, "you fucking get her to the Fireflies, and then maybe the human race will stand a chance."

"Er, don't want to interrupt, but we have company," Puck announces from where he's posted at the window. "Soldiers."

"_Shit_."

"Take her, Finn," Santana says, "get her out of here. Go, now!"

"I'm so sorry," Rachel begins, wearing a pained expression, "I never meant for this to happen."

She is already taking her gun out, making sure that it's loaded. In a surprisingly calm voice, she begins, "you go now, and I can buy you some time. I'm not sure how long but - "

"I am not leaving you here!" Finn says, for the first time devastation seeping into his voice.

"I refuse to turn into one of those... _things_," her face scrunches up with hurt, "I'm going to die anyway. Why not die doing something good, huh?" Finn has no reply to that, instead his eyes stare into hers, "Now stop fucking arguing with me and go. Take the girl and go."

He doesn't move.

"Fucking go!" she shoves his chest, eyes pleading with him, "make this easy for me, Finn."

The soldiers can be heard hounding up the steps, shouting for all weapons to be dropped. Rachel acts where Finn is incapable, taking hold of his arm and dragging him up the stairs of the foyer, all the time trying to tell herself that it's the right thing to do. Puck follows up the rear, he too staring down at Santana. They stay hidden in one of the upper rooms as the soldiers burst in.

"Firefly! Drop your weapon."

Santana's voice ring clear and strong. "_Rot in hell_," she says, before her gun in shot. A series of shots follow, Finn listening to them with an empty feeling consuming his entire being.

* * *

**Wow, okay... so that part killed me to write, but it had to be done. **

**Please review :)**


	4. The new plan

**Thank you to all the wonderful people who read this! I'm glad to see that people are enjoying the fic. **

**I won't be updating anything else for the next week, seeing as I'm going to Scotland and will have no internet. So I'll leave you with this :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"I can't believe we just fucking left her," Rachel says as they hurry through the upper floor of the building. Light spills inside from the huge, gaping holes by the back wall, but right now Finn is focusing on keeping it together, and carrying out the one last wish that Santana asked of him. He forces down the lump that rises in his throat shakes his head. She wouldn't want him to be like this; she'd tell him to man the hell up and be strong. But fuck, he's going to miss her.

"_Spread out! There are three still inside._"

"Shit," he looks left and then right, "we're going to have to get back out there. This room is just a dead end."

Rachel's eyes widen, "are you crazy? The soldiers are out there!"

But Finn is already stepping out of the doorway, crouching down as he peers overs the railing of the balcony. As soon as he sees the freshly fallen body, a red puddle slowly growing beneath it, he turns his gaze the other way, taking a deep breath.

"Poor Santana," he hears Rachel behind him, turning to find her staring too. She has tears in her eyes, even if she doesn't let them fall. And despite not having known the woman for that long.

"C'mon," Finn pushes them on, momentarily moving out of their cover to rush into the next room. This time, there's another doorway leading out, one which he quickly leads them through. As quietly as possible, he gets them back up against the wall, Finn twisting his head around the corner to search for any sign of the soldiers. The movement of black shapes gives them away, and Finn reaches for his rifle. Squinting one eye, he focuses the other on getting the shot, as he knows that there's no room for error here.

_Get the girl out of here. Get her to the Fireflies. _The words chant through his head. He shoots, instantly taking a cover again before checking to see if the target is down.

All clear.

Jumping to his feet, he looks to the next move, out of the corner of his eyes spotting an escape route. The walls are crumbling down, plants and vines slowly taking over the gap in the wall. It's big enough that he is able to jump out of the room and into the adjacent one through the large gaps. He lands, spinning on his heel in an instant to make sure the others get across as successfully.

Puck goes first, then Rachel, who this time jumps with more determination (probably trying to prove herself from the last jump she failed), landing before him with a small stumble but otherwise fine. The three run through the abandoned rooms, trying to avoid barging into the bricks and rubble spread over the floor. Finn suddenly stops, the other two coming to a halt behind him. He presses a finger to his lips, gesturing for them to be quiet, his gaze zoning in on a guard ahead.

The soldier blocks the stairwell, so Finn creeps forward, body low and each move calculated. With slow movements, he reaches to his backpack for his baseball bat, gripping it tightly within his hands.

"_Any sign of them up there_?"

"_No, it's clear, Si_ -"

He makes the move, one solid swing aimed at the back of his head. A gargled sound barely escapes the man's lips before he falls to his knees. Finn finishes it with a final blow to his left cheek, watching as the soldier drops dead. Taking the ammo, he stands, not even giving one glance to the man he's just killed, "right, down this way."

"Dude, that was awesome," Puck praises.

"Hmmf." Finn heads over to the stairwell, finding the lower half missing. Still, he leans down to assess the fall, before dropping to the floor beneath, as do the other two.

"Finn, what are we doing?" Rachel suddenly asks, "How are we getting out of here?" He peers down her way, seeing panic is her deep brown eyes, something that he shares but tries to hide from the girl. He's the one in charge now.

"Working on it," he says, ducking when voices echo into the room. He and Rachel find themselves hidden behind a cloth-covered table while Puck waits at the doorway, his own gun ready. He counts two... three soldiers moving within close proximity, but they haven't seen them... _yet_. Finn wants to keep it that way. The soldier begins to circle the table, forcing the two to crawl around the other side in order to remain safe.

He stops, and assesses the situation; this is the only guard in the room. Finn knows he can take him out easily without a shot being fired, and that means less trouble for them. As the soldier makes the next turn, Finn pounces, jumping on his back and allowing him no time to react. His arm slides tightly around his neck, before he twists his side, snapping his neck with one swift move.

"Holy shit," Rachel mumbles from where she's crouched to the floor. He keeps forgetting that this isn't a normal thing for her – for him, it's life. It's just surviving.

"This way," he orders, leading them into the next room, where more soldiers reside. He stops, and he listens, judging when best to move.

"_They still haven't found the last three_," a soldier begins.

There's a pause. "_I hear one of 'em is a kid._"

"_Does that matter? Think of how many men those fuckin' Fireflies have killed_."

"_Jesus_."

"_Yeah," _he agrees, "_but after today all this bullshit will be behind us, and we won't have to deal with another one of those fuckers again_."

"_**Attention. North tunnel clear!**_"

"_**Hold your positions**_."

Finn realizes that there's going to be no benefit from waiting here. He has to move, and he's going to have to take some more out in order to escape with his life, and in order to keep the girl safe, too. Puck, he couldn't give a shit about, but that girl is under _his_ protection.

"Stay here," he whispers to Rachel, turning to find her face barely inches for his. For a brief moment, he forgets his plan, blinking as he finds himself looking in in the brown pools of her eyes, unable to turn away.

She then nods, "okay." And he snaps back into reality, where his hearts beat wildly. He doesn't know what that was, but he doesn't have time to swell on it. He knows that it's now or never. With his rifle at the ready, he figures out the positions of the soldiers. Two to the left, one to the right, and another in front of them. He eyes Puck, then nods, jumping up and sending out two shots into the guy before him. Next, he takes the one by himself, taking a clear shot to his chest.

Now, he's forced to move when bullets splinter the wood guarding them from the soldiers. Still with stealthy movement, he dives to the next counter, and reloads his gun. While hiding, the sound of Puck's revolver goes off, and he prays that at least one of those bastards are down.

"_**They're here. We need backup**_."

"Shit," he hears himself mutter, hearing the loud footsteps on oncoming soldiers. Only one covers the exit, so Finn makes a terribly reckless decision. He surges, slicing his throat and then running from the building with a burn in his legs and a thumping in his head, Puck and Rachel on his tail. Not seconds later, they're showered with gunfire, but their legs carry them as fast as they will go.

Finn leads them to the subway, thankful when the entrance is so blocked up there's no way a military vehicle is going to get down there. "Down here," he tells them as he squeezes inside, suddenly blanketed by dim light. He blinks furiously, hands fumbling to reload his gun, "everyone okay?" He turns back, observing the pair carefully, sighing when he earns a nod from both of them.

"_**They're going into the subway**_!"

They continue to run, struggling for air but knowing that their lives depend on getting as far away from these soldiers as possible.

"They're following us," Rachel cries as she turns back to see guards slipping onto the stairs.

"Just keep going," he encourages.

Puck, who runs ahead, suddenly shouts, "spores. A whole fuckin' lot of them." Finn struggles in his backpack to find his gas mask, looking to Rachel.

"What abou - "

"I don't need one," she cuts him off, beginning to step onto the platform. "Hey, Finn, soldier, down there."

He raises his gun, easily zoning in on the target where she points "I got it." He pulls the trigger, watching him fall to the ground in the distance. "That it?" He struggles to see through the thick cloud of spores, finding himself staring at Rachel in wonder, "how the hell are you breathin' in all this stuff?"

The girl's face hardens, "I wasn't lying, Finn."

Before he can ask any further, they've got another guard on his way, rushing over to the fallen soldier. He grabs his walkie talkie, "_Stevens down. They must have gone through this way._" Lifting his gaze, he mumbles, "you're going down, motherfucker."

Finn rolls his eyes, using the pillars and piles of concrete to hide his movement to the soldier, easily taking him down with a knife to the neck. Even with it being so dark, all these years have turned him into the perfect hunter. He stands straight, "c'mon, this way. We're going to have to walk along these tracks." He jumps down, barely able to see the space before him, "fuckin' spores."

They travel up the subway, having to move through an empty carriage, before Finn hears the movement of water. When he reaches the end of the carriage, he's faced with the flooded tracks. Inwardly, he groans, but he takes no hesitation upon diving in. The water is freezing, a murky green in color. He pulls a face.

"Erm, I can't swim, remember?" Turning, he sees Rachel hesitating as she stands where he once did, twisting her hands together.

"Right," he says, "we'll figure something out. Just wait there."

"What else am I supposed to do?" she mumbles, watching as Puck dives in, too.

He points upwards, "I'm pretty sure there's a tunnel that leads out over that way. Let's get over to that ledge." Finn peers around at the surroundings, searching for something that could possibly be used to aid Rachel across the water. At first he sees nothing, so decides to check beneath the surface, the freezing water even worse once he's fully submerged in it. He swims beneath the large truck, hurrying to the surface for some breath. It's scarily dark where he finds himself, but it's nearer to the tunnel that Puck had noticed.

He slowly treads further to it, trying to find a way up.

"Looks like there's a ladder up here," he says, knowing that he can't pull himself that high, "if we can just get it down..."

Turning, he finds Rachel has moved from where he left her to the ledge on the other side. Rather than berating her about it, he ignores it and tries to find something to get her across. Then she can use the ladder and get him and Puck up.

"So what's the plan?" she asks from the other side, staring at the water with distaste.

"We gotta get you up there," he gestures to the ledge, "so Puck and I can – Puck? Where is that guy?" Finn spins in the icy water, annoyance registering on his features. "He keeps runnin' off. He's gonna get himself killed."

The water ripples beneath him, at first a wooden pallet rising to the surface, then Puck following after. "Look what I found – ow!" He rubs his head where Finn smacks it, "what was that for?"

"What part of stay close don't you understand?"

"I was trying to find something for Rachel."

"We could've found it together, now go wait over there."

"Fine, dude," he mutters, "you're welcome."

Finn grabs the pallet, checking it's sturdiness. "Well, it'll have to do." He pushes it up to where she is, "alright, get on." He can see how unsure she is in her expression, "come on; it's this or me holding you up in the water." Rachel groans, but still jumps onto the pallet, clinging on with all her strength.

"Don't drop me."

"I gotcha." His voice is oddly calm. But he knows that if she panics mid float and falls off, it's going to be a whole lot more effort, so he's trying hard to keep her relatively assured.

As he swims, it wobbles back and forth slightly, "you're fine."

"I don't feel fine," she pulls a face, clutching tighter when her legs slide downwards. Her left hand finds itself over Finn, Rachel tugging it away as though his skin burnt her. He just shakes his head, trying to ignore the way she avoids his gaze after that.

Both are glad when they get to the other side, Rachel hoisting herself up onto the platform and looking a lot more comfortable now that her feet are back on land. She moves over to the ladder, figuring out how to let it down.

"Any day now," he calls up.

"Patience is a virtue."

An awful creaking sound is made as the ladder slides down into the water, creating the smallest of splashes. "got it." Puck goes first, checking for any infected, as Finn climbs out of the water, shaking as much water from himself as possible.

Rachel is by his side, watching as Puck moves around. "Hey, so how come you can't swim?" he asks curiously. It seems strange that she can fight and acts older than her age, yet she can't do something as simple as swimming.

She gives him a look, arms defensively sweeping across her chest. "I never learned to."

"What? You never had the chance?"

"Well, it's not exactly like there are pools everywhere. I've never had that leisure." She says, a tinge of sadness to her voice, "I've been more worried about keeping myself alive than learning how to swim." With that, she walks off, leaving him to stand by himself. He finds himself thinking about her age. Seventeen years old, she'd said, so that means that she was born into this world; it's all she knows.

He sighs, unable to imagine not having _any_ memories of the good times, of a time where the world wasn't such a dangerous place. For the first time, he feels sympathetic for the girl. His eyes follow her movement as she sits herself down on an old bench, head hanging and face deep in thought. "Great," he mumbles, knowing that he's upset her.

Still, they've got a job to do and he can't get sidetracked. They all have their problems. "C'mon," he says, moving over to Puck, the two starting up the stairs. "Rachel?" he calls down to her, "hurry up."

He hears her cursing quietly to herself, but she still listens to him, her footsteps soon heard behind them.

They finally step out, feeling the warm sunshine hit their face and their heart rates slowly calm. They're no longer being chased, by soldiers, or by the infected. For a moment at least, the group can rest. Puck and Finn rip off their gas masks, taking pleasure in the fresh air around them. Finn sits himself on a fallen tree branch, holding his chin with a balled up fist, and trying to figure out their next move.

Firstly, they need to get to Will; he used to be a Firefly, and he's sure to know the location of this lab of theirs. But he's all the way out in Jackson, Wyoming, or that's where he was the last time Finn heard. He could be anywhere by now... Inwardly cursing, he stares up at the girl before him, wishing that this responsibility didn't fall upon him. Sure, he can handle himself, but there's gotta be a better group to transport her cross-country. He grumbles to himself; he was just in the wrong place in the wrong time.

Rachel suddenly sits herself down beside him, "look, ah, about Santana..." She peers down, then continues, "I don't even know what to say..." He instantly goes to stop her, not at all wanting to be given her pity, and also not wanting to be reminded of the only friend he's had in years and how she's gone.

"Okay, kid, this is how it's going to play out," he begins, in his _don't mess with me_ tone, "you're not allowed to mention Santana, _ever_." He sighs, slowly standing, "In fact, let's just keep our pasts to ourselves, right?" After that, he looks to Puck, too, ensuring that the message in clear. Then, he takes a couple of steps nearer Rachel. "You," he points at her, "don't tell anyone about your, ah, condition. You'll be dead in a matter of seconds, you hear me? Either that, or they'll think you're a few screws loose."

She sighs, rolling her eyes, "bu -"

"And finally, you do what when I say, when I say it. No excuses." His gaze meets that of both his companions, "understand?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," Rachel nods, looking slightly defeated.

Finn feels his face harden, "repeat it."

If looks could kill. "What you say, goes," she responds.

"Good," he mumbles. Now he's back to the main business, getting to Wyoming, where Will is. "So, if we're going to find Will, we'll need a car."

"Where are we going to find a ca -"

He silences her quickly, peering off into the horizon. "There's a town a few miles north of here, and a guy who owes me a couple of favors. He could get a car," he gives her a look, "and then we should be on our way." Finn pauses, thinking, "we'll drop you off in Pittsburgh, before driving straight on through to Wyoming. We clear?"

Rachel appears as though she wants to say more, but just nods her head, hands moving to hold the straps of her backpack. "So, I'm guessing we're walking to this town?"

"Yeah," he says, "let's get a move on." He places his gas mask into his backpack before taking up lead of the group.

* * *

They walk along the deserted road, the hot sun blazing down on them. To the right, a forest blooms with color and variety, and to the left a large cliff intimidates them as they slowly amble downwards. Finn finds himself peering off into the distance, the lines and shapes of buildings becoming clearer. "Right over there," he points, "that's where we need to go." He peers down, over the railings blocking their way into the woods, "let's cut through here. It'll be quicker."

He jumps over the railings with ease, the grass instantly crunching beneath his feet. Large trees and shrubs surround them, as they delve further into the scenery. Finn, for a moment, allows himself to feel at ease.

"Was that a squirrel?" Rachel suddenly asks, voice brimming with excitement.

Puck laughs, "you're acting as though you've never seen one before."

She pauses. "Well, I – I _haven't_."

Finn turns back, giving her a strange look, "you ain't never seen a squirrel before?"

"I've lived in the City all my life," she replies with a shrug, "there aren't any squirrels there... I've seen rats before though. I used to shoot them with my BB gun."

He shakes his head, "why am I not surprised?" Rather than continue the conversation, he jogs forward slightly, keeping his eye out on the town ahead. The trees, however, block a lot of the view, leaving him just aiming toward some sort of civilization. Within the woods, a small lake resides, and Finn finds himself smiling as he sees a crane standing completely still in the water, the sun rays shining from above onto the shimmering surface. It's moments like that where he feels a small glimmer of hope.

They walk for what feels like hours, until they reach a wired fence, blocking their entrance into the town. Finn frowns, pacing around it while his frustration increases.

"Maybe you could boost one of us over it?" Rachel suggests.

Finn quickly refuses. "There's barbed wire on top. We have to find another way around it." They reach the door to the fence, cursing when he sees that it's locked shut with padlocks and a severed pipe to make sure it's closed. "Dammit, Bill," he murmurs, sure that his friend is the cause of it.

A small series of noises to the side catch his attention. Turning, he suddenly finds Rachel on top of the small port-a-potty building just outside the fence. "Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get dow -"

"I got it," she insists, crouching down on the wobbly roof to reach down to pick up a plank that is stood up on the wall. He frowns when he sees how rotted and old it looks, but Rachel proceeds to place it on the top of the railings.

"If that breaks -"

"It's not going to!" Rachel cautiously sets out one foot, experimentally pressing her weight down onto the plank. It holds, for now, and she gives Finn a smug look as she saunters across it, jumping into the small complex with ease.

He rolls his eyes, "alright, now go and get the damn door open."

"Fine," she grumbles as her smile falls. She hurries over to the gate, hands grasping around the pipe and beginning to move it back and forth, jiggling it out of place. "Ah, almost got it." Finn and Puck wait on the other side, Finn leaning his hand against the wiring of the fence; the metal shaking slightly with the force Rachel exerts onto it.

Suddenly, his ears prick up, senses on full alert. "Shit, do you hear that?"

Rachel stops what she's doing to listen, too. It's Puck who's face drops with realization. "Infected. Get the fucking gate open."

"I'm trying," she moves with more fever, teeth gritting together as she puts all her strength into opening it up.

Meanwhile, Finn reaches out his shotgun, checking the immediate area, hearing those raged screams becoming louder and louder. It must be runners, seeing as there is a lacking of the typical clicking sound. Rachel is still struggling with the gate by the time he spots the first one, appearing from behind an apartment block. He lifts the gun, taking quick aim and then shooting. His whole body recoils with the shot, this gun having more of a kick than the hunting rifle, but it gets the job done, the infected hitting the floor not seconds later.

Rachel manages to get the rusted pipe from within its bounds, dropping it down with a _thud_ before she rattles the gate. "It's still padlocked!" she shouts, but the other two aren't listening as three more runners are suddenly aiming for the young girl. Instead of cowering against the fence, she bends down to grab the once discarded pipe and holds it in front of her as a weapon.

Puck hits one, but he doesn't go down, and sprints toward her. She swings the pipe, the head of the creature resonating with one loud _crack_, before it falls down, allowing Rachel a fatal hit to the top of the skull. A small amount of blood spurts out, landing on her converse. He uses his pistol to take out the last two, checking to ensure that's the last of them before he shoots at the lock, breaking it in two.

"Phew, close one," she lets out a breath as the two enter.

"It wouldn't have happened if you would have just waited for me to open the gate myself," he seethes.

Instantly, her brows knit together in annoyance, "if it wasn't for me, we could have been stuck out there for who knows how long." He knows that she was just trying to help, but hey, he's stubborn. And he's supposed to be the one in control, not her.

"I would've found a way in," he mumbles.

"_Sure_."

Feeling the growing tension, Puck steps between them, placing a hand on either shoulder. "Hey, now seems like a good time to go find this friend of yours. Get a car and all that shit." He pushes them apart ever so slightly, "which way, Finn?"

The man gives Rachel one last glance, seeing her fold her arms angrily with a small pout on her face, before he points down one road, "this way. Stay close."

* * *

"Still no sign of this Bill," Rachel complains as they walk through the town center.

"Yeah, I noticed."

This town looks the same as any other – abandoned cars, flipped and turned, this way and that; grass growing through all the cracks, wherever it can, while the whole world within feels completely still and empty, like a life long forgotten. He finds himself looking for a sign that Bill still resides within, hoping and praying that he isn't just another victim of this plague.

He takes the two down a back alley, the high sun casting shadows against the walls. Finn knows that they need to find him before it gets dark, seeing as the infected become more active during the night. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something that restores his faith in Bill being there. "See that," he points out, pointing to the small piece of string attached to either wall of the alley, "that is Bill's handiwork."

"What does it do?" Puck asks with curiosity.

"You catch that and you're getting quite a hit. Triggers some kind of explosive..." He steps nearer, walking around the contraption cautiously, "but if we stay under it, we ought to be fine. I reckon' it's some safety precautions against those infected."

Nodding in admiration of the traps, Puck says, "well, if he can manage that, he's gotta be able to fix us up a car, right?"

"I sure hope so," Finn says. He frowns when their path is blocked by another fence, definitely too high to climb, and next to it a garage. Peering upwards, he sees a ladder, "if we get that then we could all get up." He inspects it further, "Rachel, c'mere." She appears momentarily confused, but does as he says, "I'll boost you up, and you push down the ladder for us."

"Right," she nods, seemingly happy to be some sort of help to him.

"Okay," he bends slightly, placing his hands flat against his knee, "gimme your foot." She places her shoe on his hands, her fingers wrapping around his shoulder as she steps up. A second later, he pushes her up, letting her latch onto the edge of the garage. Rachel hoists herself onto the roof, gently lifting down the ladder.

As Puck is scaling the ladder, Finn suddenly hears her exclaim. "Oh, awesome!"

"What? What is it?" He reaches the top, finding Rachel holding onto a large bow, apparently in good condition, which surprises him when he sees the state of the body slumped to the wall next to it. It must've been gone for months. Rachel doesn't seem bothered, leaning over the body to tug the arrows from the head.

"This is so cool," she begins, the biggest smile he's seen on her face since they met. She pulls the bow into position, testing out the string.

"Hey, pass that here." Finn takes the bow from her, placing the arrows securely in his backpack.

The second it's out of her hands, she begins to protest. "This isn't fair. You and Puck both have weapons. Why can't I have something to protect myself?"

"Leave that to me," he says, leaning in closer to her.

"No," she shoves him away by his chest, adding, "I can handle myself, Finn. What's the point if I'm just unarmed all the time? That's more work for you."

"Don't worry about me."

"I _don't_," she grumbles, shoving past him to go and join Puck where he's climbed up the next set of ladders to another roof. Finn waits a moment, his gaze following her movements, before he goes after her. From where they stand, he can see a lot of the town, noticing that they're within a self-made barricade that covers a mile or so of the whole town, something that he assumes is Bill's doing. Not having time to focus on whether or not Rachel is pissed at him, he runs down the fire escape and hopes that they're going to find his friend.

Puck suddenly appears beside him, jogging as well, but chooses not to begin a conversation. Rather glad, Finn focuses on the task at hand, frowning when he finds more of Bill's traps in the only way through the alleys.

"For fuck sake," he complains, "he ain't making this easy for us." He searches the alley, obtaining a few bottles, which he throws at the wire of the traps, watching as they explode, taking the whole door with it.

"Nice," Puck lets out a low whistle.

He heads on through, clearing his throat. "Uh, just so you guys know, Bill ain't exactly the most, ah, stable character. He's used to being alone. He don't take too kindly to strangers, so just let him warm up to you, 'kay?" Finn suddenly remembers something, "and Rachel - "

"I know, don't tell him about my 'condition'." Finn nods, finding the alley they're in coming to a close. The only way through now is via a metal door, and Finn reaches for the handle, hoping it isn't locked. That'd be just his luck. Miraculously, it opens without a hitch, Finn stepping into the large storage unit first, only to stop as a series of noises halt him in his tracks. The first that he sees are the ropes in a large mess around the ceiling, but opening the door had triggered something. bBefore he can figure out exactly what it is, rope tightens around his right ankle and the next thing he knows he's suspended upside down by his ankle.

He tries to pull himself upright, but struggles, "another fuckin' trap."

"Finn!" Rachel runs over to him, using her hands to steady him as his body sways back and forth. "What do we do?" She appears slightly panicked, trying to figure out a way herself. He feels the blood rushing to his head an uncomfortable way, but pushes through it to glance around the room.

"That refrigerator," he points to the item in question, "that must be the counterweight. You need to cut it down."

She nods frantically, hurrying to climb on top of the appliance and use her small knife to cut the rope.

"Shit, look out. Infected on their way."

Oh fuck. Not now. He's fucking _upside_ _down;_ could there be a more inopportune moment for them to suddenly attack?

From where he is, he can see the entire warehouse, and there series of large, open windows that fill the back two walls. Not only that, but the other door is open, just _inviting_ the fucking infected in. They must have heard the bang as the refrigerator fell and came flocking at the prospect of people. The first begins to climb through one of the windows, leaving Finn scrambling into his bag, all in all a little disoriented, until he reaches out the shotgun.

Puck does have his back, managing to hit its head and send it flying to the ground, but there is no time for celebration as more flood in. Two try to climb the refrigerator, where Rachel is struggling to cut the thick rope with her far too blunt blade, and Finn knows he has to step in. At the same time, he doesn't want to shoot Rachel, and being upside down isn't exactly a walk in the park. No, he has to be fucking careful.

One shot lined up, he waits to make sure she's out of the way as he pulls the trigger, knocking the infected the few feet back to the ground. The other is more persistent, taking three shots to the chest before Rachel stabs it with her knife and kicks it to the ground.

Arms wrap around his, a rank stench infiltrating his senses, and he realizes that he's basically just a sitting duck for the infected. He manages to break free of its grasp, pushing it back enough to get a shot to its head and point blank range. There ain't no way it's surviving that.

_Click, click, click, click._

"Oh fuck, fuck. Shit... oh fuck," he mumbles the series of curses, reloading his gun while keeping a keen eyes on the two clickers. "I fuckin' hate you guys."

He gets one down after a couple of shots, Puck trying with the other.

They're doing okay, until, "fuck, I'm out of ammo, dude." One infected jumps Puck, and he barely manages to pull it off, before slamming its face into the corner of a shelf. The head cracks, caving in on itself, the body dropping in stillness.

He's sure that he almost has a heart attack. "Rachel, hurry the fuck up and get me down from here." The only way they'll stand a chance is if he's not the wrong fucking way around.

"I'm trying!" she shouts, adding, "you know, if you'd given me that bow I coulda' fucking helped out. But no, you have some big man ego that means you won't let me have a weapon."

"This ain't the time!" he retaliates, taking another clicker out.

Suddenly the rope snaps, and he falls the couple of feet downwards until his head bangs into the floor, his body following. Peering up with a scowl on his face, he can tell that Rachel let him down not so lightly on purpose. Still, he barely has any time to dwell on that as a runner lands on his vulnerable body, teeth opening and closing, desperate to bite. With all his strength he's tries to keep it at bay, yet struggles.

A huge knife slices through the air, catching the runner in the neck before the blade slices through the skin. It goes down a couple seconds later. When Finn looks up, he first sees the gas mask of the man, then peers up and down to take in the rest of the appearance. "Bill?"

"Get your fucking guns and shoot, Finn." He uses the knife again to get rid of a clicker, slicing its head clean off. Finn glances around to check that Rachel and Puck are still okay, before he hears, "there are too many of them. Come on, we're getting out of here." Bill runs toward the door where the hoard had ran in through, the three eagerly following to escape this fight. "This way. Go, go, go!"

He seems to have made a path, barricading every other exit off of it except the ones he needs to use. "Look lively, it still ain't safe," he tells them, his large rifle at the ready. There are a couple at a self-made fence, which Finn and Bill each take a shot at, watching them slide down. "Up here." Bill leads them through an open truck, then out the back, where he's surprised by a clicker. Finn blows its head with a clear shot, watching in satisfaction as it dies. Just as quickly, Bill is urging them forward.

"Is this the guy that we're looking for?" Rachel asks from his side, having to run faster to keep up with him.

"Sure is." He looks down to her, trying to judge her expression. "Hey just, _behave_, okay?"

Her face scrunches with annoyance. "I do." And then she runs ahead of him, clearly offended. He sighs, not having time to deal with this. Turning his head, he sees some infected after them, trying his hand at a backward shot, which only manages to slow one down, not kill it.

"Through here," Bill continues through a building, what seems to have once been a kitchen, and then slows, peeping his head out the other side cautiously. "Okay, clear. Come on." He opens the door nearest to him in a rush, waiting for the others to get safely inside, before he and Finn shove it closed from any infected. He places a bar in front of it, using a couple of locks too.

"Whoa, that was a close one," Rachel says, leaning against the wall.

Now safe, they all take a moment to have a breather, Bill tugging off his gas mask and casually throwing it to his desk in the corner. He picks up something off the desk, walking up to Rachel.

"Hey, thanks for savin' us and all." She smiles in greeting, "I already know who you are but I'm Rachel." Placing her hand out for him to shake, she's surprised when he grabs her wrist with a scowl, handcuffing it tightly, and then cuffing her to a pipe hanging out of the wall. "What the fuck?" She looks to Finn, eyes begging him to get her out.

"Bill," Finn begins with a sigh. He knows that the dude doesn't trust people easily, but they already know each other.

Bill shushes them, pointing his gun at Puck first, "on the ground, son." He does as he's told quickly, moving to his knees, while Finn initially refuses to play along. All it earns him is a hit to the back of his knees, forcing him down. All the while he hears Rachel tugging on the pipe.

"You got any bites?" Bill starts looking over the two of them, "any scratches?"

He shakes his head, "Bill -"

"Anything sprouting?"

"Bill, goddammit, we're clean!" He stands up, ignoring the gun pointed in his face, before a loud _crack_ catches his attention and suddenly Rachel lunges for Bill, using the pipe that held her trapped against the wall to hit his arm.

Bill screams, recoiling away, "you little bitch!"

"Stop!" Finn pulls Rachel away just as she's about to go for another hit, ripping the pipe from her grasp, much to her annoyance. Still, she glares Bill's way. "Are you done?"

"Am _I_ done?" he asks in surprise, shaking his head. "you come into my house, set off all my traps, and then nearly break my fucking shootin' arm." He looks to Rachel, "who the fuck is this girl and why did you bring her here?

She looks like she's ready to kill, features scrunched up angrily. "Rachel -" Finn starts, not wanting an argument to escalate any further than it has.

She ignore him, "we're here because you owe Finn some favors. You can start by taking these fucking handcuffs off. This is _barbaric_!" She practically growls the last part, moving to within inches of Bill.

He gives her a one over, before chuckling and shaking his head, "is this some kind of fucking joke?"

Finn steps forward, his voice low. "I'll cut to the chase. I need a car."

"Well, it is a joke," he comes to the conclusion, reloading his weapons, "_Finn_ needs a car." He cocks back the gun, "and what makes you think that I have a car, huh? And even if I did,why would I give it to you?" He gives a cynical smile, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Look, I know I'm askin' for a lot -"

"A lot?" he exclaims, "sure Finn, just take my car. Take my weapons while you're at it, and how about all my fuckin' food?"

"By the looks of it you could lose some of that food," Rachel mutters.

He sneers, pointing his gun at her, "listen here you little shit -"

"Screw you," she bites back, adding with emphasis. "you handcuffed me to the _wall_."

Finn spins around, grabbing her by her shoulders, "I need you to stop talking." He pushes her backwards, beside Puck, "you keep her quiet." Rachel gives him _that_ look again, but he ignores it as he returns to Bill, "look -"

"Whatever favors you think I owe ya ain't worth a car."

"Actually, they are." His voice becomes much graver. If only Bill knew what he's up to, what quest is set ahead for him.

He pauses, shaking his head, "well, I don't have a car."

Finn moves in closer, "but you _could_ fix one up?" His eyes practically beg now, not that he's proud of it, but damn, he desperate.

As Bill contemplates, his face goes through a range of expression, finishing on one of tiredness. He rubs his forehead slowly, before nodding. "alright. If we're going to do this, I'm going to need some parts. It ain't gonna be a walk in the park, though."

He scoffs, "when is it?"

Bill reaches forward, pulling out a map. Rachel and Puck join them at the table, too, Rachel still sulking as her gaze burns a hole into Finn's cheek. "This stuff is on the other side of town," he begins, "I don't go there a lot because there's infected everywhere... you help me go gather what I need and then... then _maybe_ I can put something together for you."

Reaching it his pocket, he eyes Finn, then Rachel, and finally Puck. "But after this, Hudson, I owe you shit." He slams the keys a ring of keys onto the table, "you got it?"

Finn grabs them, "yeah, I got it." He gestures for Rachel to join him, unlocking the handcuffs gently and then taking her wrist to make sure that there's no damage. He notices the bottom of her scar from the infected bite peeking out from her shirt, tugging it down over so that Bill doesn't see. Their eyes meet once more, only briefly this time, but he swears that she looks as though she wants to say something.

Instead, she settles for a quiet, "thank you."

"Right, follow me." Bill grabs his blade and gun, "the whole town is booby trapped, so you stay right on my ass."

"_Can't miss it_," Rachel says. Finn's glad that he's behind her, so that she doesn't see the way his lips curve upwards into a smile.

* * *

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	5. The surprise

**Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews :) This fic is very different to what I usually write, so I'm glad people are liking it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Bill leads them into another room of the building they're in. "If you need any ammo I suggest you get it now. I've got, ah, a couple of guns if you need some, and some med kits if you need to patch up. There are more where we're going next, but it ain't gonna do you any harm to be prepared."

Finn and Puck gratefully take the ammo, Rachel lingering beside them. He sees her fingers gently running over the revolver on the side, "Finn..."

"No," he simply says.

"Fine," she responds angrily, "I'll just wait for you guys to get me killed, okay?"

He shakes his head, "go check for anything else we'll need." She reluctantly nods, moving off the get food and other important things. Finn tries not to take any notice as she practically sulks to the side, and instead focuses on being prepared. They're sure as hell going to have to face a lot of infected; Bill has already clarified that.

"You good?" Bill asks from the door, waiting as the three nod, "alright. Let's get to the other side of the town." He leads them through, "and close the damn door after you."

"Will do," he responds, letting the others go ahead as he locks up behind him. They run up some high stairs, the dim light making it hard to see exactly where they're headed.

"So how've you ended up in this mess, Hudson? And who're the tag alongs?"

He sighs, wondering exactly where this 'mess' started. "I, ah, I'm smugglin' something. Deal kind of went south."

"It did, huh?" Bill turns with a look of curiosity.

"The people that I were deliverin' to were killed by a patrol."

"And you didn't just give it up? That ain't like you. And it _especially_ ain't like Santana to let you do something like that," he pauses, "where is she anyway? Last time I checked you two were inseparable."

Finn tries to ignore the pang that he feels at the mention of Santana, "she uh, she couldn't come..."

"Oh," Bill suddenly smiles, "I know what that means. Trouble in paradise?"

"...something like that, yeah."

"You never said what you were smuggling, anyway. It's gotta be important if you're risking so much for it." As Bill speaks, Finn finds himself staring at Rachel, who lags behind and speaks with Puck. He doesn't realize that he's looking for a little too long, not answering Bill at all, until he says, "well fuck me. The little brat? What the hell you smugglin' her for?"

"It's kind of a, ah, a _long_ story." Finn quickly wants to change the subject, hoping that he doesn't have to explain to Bill about Rachel's immunity. He'd think that they'd all gone crazy. Bill leads them into a smaller room, where sounds alert Finn, his every fiber tensing. "shh, is that... an infected?" He immediately reaches for his gun, only for Bill to hold his hand out.

The older man opens the next door, which is raw with claw marks all along the middle. "I've been meaning to take care of this one." He saunters inside, where Finn sees it caught in one of his traps, still trying to escape after however so many hours in there. Anything else would've given up by now.

When Bill nears the creature, it's awful, growing-like sounds become louder and with more energy to them. Bill doesn't bat an eyelid as he brings down his blade on its neck, once, twice, and then third time bring the head off, hitting the floor with a dull _thud_.

"Nice," Rachel says sarcastically as she walks past it.

He grumbles something that Finn does quite hear, before moving for the next door. "Alright, I've got another place close to here. It's well, it's more of an armory, but it'll have what we need. Just stay close and don't do anything stupid, right?"

It's tense as they step outside once more. Although they're with Bill, it doesn't guarantee their safety, and each know that _anything_ can happen. Around them is a blocked off street, like usual the mess of cars and destruction surrounding them. Different city, same story.

Rachel peers around curiously, "hey, why don't you just fix up one of these cars?"

"Oh my God, you're a genius," he begins sarcastically, "all this time and I didn't think of fixing up one of these cars. It's a great thing that we've got you here to show us the error of our ways."

"Alright," she rolls her eyes, "I was just asking."

Bill ignores her, going on to explain exactly why they can't use one of the abandoned cars. "Their tires are rotten and the batteries are fucked. I can't even begin to think what the inside of the engine blocks look like..."

"Are you done?" Rachel asks.

"... the only people making new batteries are the military. All these cars are good for is scrap."

She begins to walk off, clearly ignoring everything that he's just said. "Shit," she suddenly stops, eyes widening, "infected!" Without any weapons, she runs behind the safety of the other three, who're already and loaded to go.

Finn initially knocks out a few with a Molotov, the infected screaming and trying to escape the flames. He takes cover by one of the cars, struggling to find a good aim on the leftover infected with the others around. With his shotgun at the ready, he jumps over the hood of the car and hits a couple of runners, the real problem being the clicker that gets to him before he has time to reload. The gun flies from his hands, clattering to the ground, but before the clicker gets a chance to make a snap at him, Rachel jumps on its back, stabbing her knife in at least five times.

He watches as it falls down before him, helping Rachel up quickly.

"Get to that gate over there!" Bill yells. He and Puck face a pack of three clickers, all as determined as the next, but Finn is sure they can handle it. Besides, his only responsibility is Rachel.

"C'mon," he tells her, hand gripping around hers tightly "stay right behind me." Together, they run toward the large, ornate gate. Vines are entwined within the detailed metalwork, and stairs lead up to a looming church. He shakes the gate, "dammit, Bill, it's locked."

Bill stabs his knife through the stomach of one of the infected, "I'm kind of busy at the moment!" It's killed when Puck can get a clear shot to the head, the body then sliding from the blade. Finn shoots the few infect that are left, not even letting them get within a few feet of he or Rachel. Finally, they're all down, Bill stumbling over to the others. He speaks to himself as he does, "now you're going to have the check the lower gates. This is what happens when you neglect the simple shit, Bill."

"Can we go through now?" Rachel interrupts him impatiently.

Though he glares, he still gets the key from his pocket and opens up the gate, the metal creaking loudly.

Puck, having got his breath back, gives Bill a look, "you choose some place to live, huh?"

"Pshh," he grumbles, "as bad as those things are, at least they're predictable." He pauses, "it's the normal people that scare me. You of all people should get that, right Finn?"

Rachel frowns instantly, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Ignore him," Finn says. He doesn't need Rachel knowing about all the shit that he's done.

With the gate now locked behind them, they jog up the steep, stone stairs that lead to the church, "which way now?"

"You're staring at it," Bill appears next to him. "All my stuff is in the basement. Let's get out of sight in case any more of those things decide to show up." Finn and Puck open a door to the basement each, Rachel stepping in first. Before she even reaches the bottom step, Bill's booming voice lets out orders left and right. "You," he points to Rachel, "don't touch a goddamn thing. You, Mohawk, close the fucking door," he finally looks to Finn, "and you, come with me."

He moves around the room, turning on a few lamps, but not too brightly as to alert anything of their position. "alright, gear up."

Finn doesn't even need to be looking at Rachel to know where she's headed. "Hey, Rach, what did I say before?"

She gives him an _are you serious_ look. "Really? You still think that I can't handle a gun?"

"I ain't taking that chance," he tells her. "Just... just stay here."

"This is so unfair," Rachel throws herself down onto one of the chairs at an old desk, idly moving the things found on top of it.

Finn follows the couple of steps further down into the basement, finding Bill and Puck with another rifle. "Well," Bill begins, looking from Finn to Rachel, and back again, "this goes on record as the worst fucking job you've ever taken." Finn doesn't say anything, "taking that fucking kid cross country is a suicide mission, you know that, right?"

He sighs, "yeah, probably. But I gotta do this." Santana's words chant in his head once more.

Bill frowns, his face showing confusion. "How in the hell did Santana agree to you doing this?"

"It was actually, ah, it was her idea."

"Well, then she ain't as smart as I thought she was," he shrugs, not noticing the way that Finn's face hardens. "But fuck her." He suddenly laughs, "if I were you I'd take her back where you found her."

"I...I _can't_."

"Then give her that fucking gun that she wants and send her on her own way." He places the gun down slowly in front of Finn, "'cause you know what happens when you get attached to people, when you care about them...?" Finn waits for a response, slowly sitting in front of where Bill's stood. "It makes you vulnerable. I used to have a partner, somebody that I had to look after, then I wizened the fuck up, and I realized that I was better off by myself."

"So what did you do?"

He looks Finn in the eyes, his lacking in any emotion, any care. "I left him. I just packed up my shit and left, and look at me. I'm doing well. I'm survivin', but if you spend a week out there you're sure as hell gonna get murdered or torn apart by those fuckin' monsters, or _both_."

Finn feels his body deflate, voice tired. "I have to do this, Bill."

"Then it'll be your funeral, my friend. And that little brat's too, not that I care. Just a friendly warning."

"Friendly? Pffft."

"Yeah – _hey_, what did I say to you when we walked in here? _What did I say_?" Finn spins around to see Rachel as Bill yells at her.

She steps back from the table, arms crossing angrily, "I wasn't doing anything!"

"I said don't fucking touch anything, kid," he glares. Her glare darkens. Finn tries to give her a warning look, yet her expression barely budges. "Right, before we go I've got something to show you." Bill leaves his small area to another table in the room, "something that you'll appreciate."

He stands before the desk, mumbling to himself as he crafts some strange contraption, no doubt. Finn can only wait curiously to see exactly what it is. "This," he begins, holding up some misshaped object, nails sticking this way and that, "is a nail bomb. Shreds anything that's close to it."

"Awesome," Finn says, like a child on Christmas, as he picks up the bomb and examines it. It certainly looks like Bill's handiwork, and he's sure that it's just as effective as the rest of the traps and weapons around the town. He fits it into his bag, just about, before taking a moment of silence to himself as Bill moves back to help Puck. The man's words linger in the back of his mind. A suicide mission, that's what he'd called it. He lets out a deep sigh; maybe it is after all.

"Alright," Bill groans, picking his own bag up off the desk, "let's get this over with." The basement of the church is soon left behind them as he leads the group upwards and into the main hall. On the far wall, a impressive stained glass window stands, holding all their attention. "Well, if you got anything to confess, now is the time to do it," Bill tells them, walking straight past the alter before reaching the window. He tentatively pushes it open, then wider when there's no sign of movement outside. Climbing out of the window, they find themselves on the roof of the church extension. Below them, a graveyard stretches out over a few levels.

Rachel joins them, sighing. "Great. A graveyard. Nothing bad _ever_ happens in a graveyard."

"Yeah, well with any luck you'll run into a pack of clickers kid." Bill sneers her way, before pointing into the distance, "now, that's the High School over that way. That's where we're headed." He lowers himself down, dropping from the roof into top of the graveyard. Beside them, a pile of bodies is the first thing that catches their eye.

"C'mon," Finn says, leading them past it and through to lower ground. "So why exactly are we going to the High school?"

Bill takes a sigh, gently running a hand through hair. "Every few weeks the military send a couple of teams around the town, searching for supplies. You'd be surprised at the shit that they overlook... anyway, three months back one of their trucks were attacked by a hoard of runners. Crashed right into the High School and has been sitting there ever since."

He quickly realizes the plan, "so we take that engine and put it in another car? Wait, won't it be damaged?"

"Look, you wanted a plan. This is the plan. Take it or leave it."

Praying that it will work, he takes it, remaining in silence as Bill leads them through this part of the town, not that he knows exactly where he's going. Though they keep on their toes, trying to be as agile as possible, they run into some infected. It's the world they live in, but Finn takes them out silently with the bow. That way they're not attracting a whole hoard of them.

With the sun beginning to set, they etch closer and closer to this High School.

"So, where are you going that you so desperately need a car?" Bill asks.

"Gotta drive all the way out to Wyoming," he responds.

"Wyoming?"

With a nod, he says, "meeting a friend, an ex-Firefly."

Bill laughs, "don't get me fucking started on those Fireflies."

"What's wrong with them?" Rachel pipes up.

He scoffs, "chasing after some dream that we'll be able to cure the infected. Fuckin' waste of time, if you ask me." Rachel and Finn's eyes meet, as though having a silent conversation through their gazes. "Aw, shit."

Finn lowers himself as Bill does, "what?"

"A few runners. Look."

By now they're practically in front of the High School, a few crashed buses lingering around the area, but Bill points to the infected stood stationary in between the vehicles, like they've been waiting for them the whole time. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out his weapon of choice, eyes glistening with excitement, "time to try this bad boy out." Glancing over the area, he decides where the best place for it is, aiming where the most runners are. In one quick throw, it hits the floor, and they all take cover.

At the sound of it hitting the floor, the infected swamp over to the site of the bomb, and the four wait until...

_**Bang!**_

Peering over the roof of the car, he sees the bodies on the floor.

"Cool," Puck says, "can I have one?"

"Let's go," Finn half crouches, half creeps toward the next car, nearing the school.

"There, that's the truck!" Bill points it out, gesturing to where it's crashed into the entrance. Just as he's doing so, a clicker appears, running full pelt for them, only to be stopped by Finn's shotgun. "Shit, get to the school!" He sets off into a sprint, the others forced to join him.

Before they even manage to get into the School grounds, they're stumped by one of the buses blocking their way. "What do we do?" Puck asks, turning back to stare at the infected headed their way.

"There's a ladder up there!" Rachel sees from the corner of her eye, "here, Finn, help me up." He puts out his hands for her, hoisting her into the air so that she can climb onto the roof.

"You better not fuck this up," Bill says.

Just as he finishes, she pushes down the ladder, a smug smile on her face. The man grumbles to himself, before climbing over too, followed by Puck and then Finn. They circle the truck, "we need to get into the High School!" he shouts, wary of the noise of the imminent infected. Attempting to find a door, all increase with frustration when nothing is found.

Finn tugs away one of the dumpsters from the side, finding a small window. "In here!" They all crowd around, Bill rushing to shove it open. As it does, he throws himself in first. Finn stays back to shoot a clicker, as Rachel throws a brick at it to disorient the creature. Together, they manage to kill it, allowing Rachel enough time to slip into the room, and Finn to follow, even if he is tailed by more infected. They grab at his plaid shirt, but Bill's bullets soon put an end to that.

Clawing the window closed, he and Puck drag a shelving unit in front of it.

"Be quick, Bill!" Finn shouts when more try to get in, this time through the door. Even though it's locked he's not convinced that it'll hold.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me!"

In an instant, he's joining Bill at the hood, expecting the see some bad damage or something of the sort, but instead he's looking at nothing. "_There's no fucking battery_?"

"Someone must've had the same idea!"

"But I _need_ that battery." The doors move with the force of the infected, and Finn finds himself having to step away. He looks to Bill, "fuck it. We need to get out of here."

"Let's cut through the hallways," Puck suggests, "sneak out the other side."

"Well, we don't have any other option," Bill agrees, rushing from the room along with the others. "Shit, clickers ahead," he calls back to them. It's only a couple, but it's two too many, and Finn growls with annoyance over having to waste ammo on them. Peering backwards, he sees that some are becoming dangerously close to them, and urges the group to run faster.

As he reaches the clicker, he takes his baseball bat, slamming it against the creature's head, the run up causing him to give a harder hit. The other takes Puck and Rachel to kill it, Puck having to shoot a couple of times.

He barges through another set of doors, ending up in the large gym. Rather than the dim light of the hallways, there's suddenly a bright set of windows to lighten the room. They find some bars to barricade the door, hopefully stopping any more of those things getting inside. He only has a couple of seconds to catch back his breath as Bill runs over to the bleachers, moved so that they're more of a wall than stairs.

"Okay, Rachel, you get up first," he says, wanting to get her out of harm's way. Once she's safely atop the bleacher, he aids Bill and finally Puck.

"Why is it always me to get up last?" he mumbles to himself, jumping up to grab onto Bill's outstretched hand. With a small struggle, they're all relatively safe.

Bill makes his way out of the window, "down here." He jumps onto the alley behind the High School, cursing loudly when more infected are heard. "Do they ever fucking stop?" He spots a ladder ahead, forcing himself into a sprint to get over it. "Come on, hurry up!" Jumping into the garden, they step away from the fence, hoping that the infected don't find another way in. Bill uses his gun to push the ladder away from the fence, preventing the infected from climbing over. "Quick, into the house!" Once inside, Finn slams the door closed, the sound of the infected suddenly being dulled by the barricade between them.

"So, that worked out well," Rachel says, earning a glare from practically everyone. "Okay, I'm gonna go... check out this side of the house." Predicting the argument that's about to break out, she makes a quick exit, as does Puck, quickly on her heels.

When they're gone, Finn turns to Bill. "So?"

He scowls, "somebody took the battery. They stole my shit."

"Well, what do we do now?" he demands to know, feeling all hope slowly vanishing away. "There's gotta be another battery somewhere."

"That was the only fucking one. That's it. No more." He practically vibrates with anger, "you ought to be thankful that you're still drawing breath." His voice becomes louder and louder, more filled with rage, "and furthermore, you can tell Santana that she can take this job - "

"Don't you bring Santana into this!" Finn stands up, pointing his finger in Bill's face.

"And she can shove it right up -"

He grabs the collar of Bill's shirt, faces inches apart, both seething. "She has nothing to do with this!"

But Bill suddenly stops, his gaze rising upwards. In an instant, sadness spreads through his eyes before he hides it. Finn turns curiously, taking a step back when he sees the body hanging from the ceiling by thick rope. He barely reacts, still so worked up. "What? You know him or something?"

"Frank."

He holds his arms up in a shrug, "who?"

Bill looks to the ground, finding it difficult to keep the pain from his expression. "He was my partner."

"Oh."

"And he's the only idiot who would wear a shirt like that." He walks over to the rope suspending the body, cutting it with his knife. "He has bite marks," he points down, "here." Then to his neck, "and ..." He's unable to finish the sentence.

Finn doesn't know what to say, or how to console his friend. "I reckon' he didn't want to turn, so he... you know."

"Yeah... I guess not." He steps the other way, so that Finn can't see his face. "Well fuck him."

"Look..." he begins.

The sound of an engine suddenly stops the conversation, Finn and Bill following the noise. While the engine splutters noisily, it only does so for a few seconds before stopping. "What the..." Bill begins, opening to garage to find Puck and Rachel sat in a pick-up truck.

She grins, "look what I found."

Bill hurries around to the hood, tugging it open and inspecting inside. "That's my fucking battery." He slams it shut, cursing under his breath, "get out, kid." She glares his way, slowly moving to open the door, "get out!"

"Okay, geez," she picks up speed.

He takes her place, trying the engine again. It cuts short as usual. "Battery's drained," he comments, "but cells are alive."

"So?" Puck asks.

"So, we push it, get it started, and the alternator will recharge the battery," he explains, getting out of the car. "There you go, Finn, you have a car."

"Not yet I don't," he mumbles, hoping that Bill's plan does in fact work. He watches as Bill wanders off, finding more of "his stuff" in Frank's house.

Rachel walks up next to him, "what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," he sighs, "you drive, and we push."

"Really?" She seems surprised at being allowed to help.

Finn nods, glancing over his shoulder at Bill. "Lemme just check the house for supplies and then we'll give it a go." Rachel nods, sitting herself in the front seat once more, while he moves back into the main area of the house. He finds the room where Frank had been sleeping, an old mattress pushed up against a wall with a few comforters placed over it. He's glad when he finds a couple cans of food, and some more ammo, which is always helpful.

He slows when he walks past the body once more, noticing a letter placed on the side table. With a little trepidation, he picks it up, curiosity growing when he reads _Dear Bill_ at the top. Finn checks to make sure that Bill is still occupied with checking the engine while he unfolds the letter, reading it in his head.

_Dear Bill._

_I don't know whether you'll ever read this since you were so scared to ever cross to this part of town, but if for some reason you ever do I just want to say that I hated your guts and your set-in-your-way attitude. I wanted more life than this shitty town has to offer, something that you could never get._

_Oh, and that stupid battery that you were always moaning about? I got it. I guess you were right though, leaving this town would eventually kill me. Still, better than being with you._

_Good luck, Frank._

Finn sighs, then places the letter back where he found it, wondering what Bill would think if he ever saw it.

"Hey Hudson, if you ever wanna get out of here you better hurry up!" Jogging into the garage, he finds everyone ready and in position. Puck is waiting at the back of the car to push while Bill is poised to open the garage door. Finn finds himself walking over to Rachel, leaning against the open window.

"You alright with this?" he asks her, trying to hide the nerves that shake his whole body.

She nods, "yeah, it's fine."

He offers her a small smile, "you're uh, doing a good job. Just thought I should say." With that, he joins Puck at the rear. "Okay, we're ready." Bill slowly opens the garage door, checking for any infected and giving the all clear.

"Put her in first," Bill orders Rachel.

"One step ahead of you," she returns.

The man jogs behind to aid the other two, "now keep your foot on the clutch and when we get to roll - "

"I know how to pop a clutch," she calls backwards.

"How the hell do you...? You know what, I don't give a shit, just don't fuck it up." They begin to push, the strain not so much between the three of them. They slowly move out onto the drive, before Rachel steers to the left, getting them on the main road. "Now," Bill shouts to her, "hit it!"

She does as he says, the engine stirring but, just like before, stopping. "Alright, good job, kid."

"Let's give it another go," Finn says, patting the back of the truck, "c'mon." They repeat the same procedure, pushing the car down the deserted road. As always, when things are going well, something has to counteract that. It's Bill who first hears the cries of the infected, moving away from the truck to pull out his shotgun. "Get away, you bastards!"

"More on the right!" Finn yells. He grabs his baseball bat, aiming a square hit at one of the clicker's heads, the remains flying everywhere. With his pistol he takes out the leftover runners. "Come on, back to the car!"

They continue their pushing, one by one having to shoot at the infected that appear from the surrounding houses.

"You," Bill groans, "have really fucked up my day, you know that?" He pulls back to shoot a runner, "right, let's get her to the hill."

"Get ready Rachel," Finn says as they near the hill, the front wheels rolling over first. The car picks up speed, rushing downwards, while the three run to keep up with it. "Now, Rachel!" She hits the engine for the third and final time, and for once luck is with them. "You hear that sound?" Finn smiles. "We have a working car."

Bill trails behind slightly, "yeah, well if we can hear it so can the infected. Let's get a move on." Just as suspected, they come flocking from everywhere, but Finn doesn't want to waste ammo when they have a way to escape them. He jumps into the back of the truck, the other two following his lead.

"Drive!" Bill shouts. "Go. Go!"

She stamps her foot down on the gas, the car jolting into movement and taking them further away from the infected. There's a shared sigh of relief in the back of the truck, all trying to get over another close encounter. Finn turns, watching the street become smaller and smaller as they travel along the road into a more desolate area.

Soon enough, he pats the back window. "Okay, stop her here." They slow down, allowing them to climb from the back and onto the sidewalk."That girl nearly got us killed," Bill complains, sending a glare Rachel's way, though she doesn't notice.

Finn jumps out after him, landing on the hard ground. "You gotta admit," he smiles, almost proudly, "she held her own back there."

The other man scoffs, "you ain't gonna make it, you know?"

"We're probably not," Finn agrees, "but I gotta do this."

"You keep saying that. But you never say why. What's so important that you're willing to risk your life over it?" He fixates a thoughtful gaze on Finn, "'cause one thing I know about you, Finn, is that you'll do pretty much anything to save your own ass, and there ain't many lines you have left to cross."

His face becomes blanker, shaking off Bill's words.

"Oh," he suddenly reaches into his backpack, throwing some of its contents at Finn.

"What's this?" He peers down at the object in his hand.

"You'd be amazed at how many cars still have gas in 'em."

"Ah, thanks Bill," he nods, "I'm sure it'll come in handy." His lips curving downwards into a frown, he adds, "I'm real sorry 'bout what happened to your partner. I -"

Bill quickly interrupts, "fuck him. Caring for people is good for one thing in this world. Getting you killed." He gestures over to Rachel, "And babysitting that little brat is gonna do just that." He leans down to take his bag, "and with that, get the fuck outta my town. I don't owe you shit."

He doesn't say anything in reply, instead he slowly walks back to the car, sparing only a couple of glances back Bill's way.

* * *

The windscreen wipers slowly push the rain back and forth, just enough for Finn to see straight ahead of them. He sits there, enjoying the sound of the rainfall, and also the peace. It's rare that he'll find a moment when the only sound he hears is so calm and tranquil. He looks in the rear view mirror, where Puck and Rachel are both sat in the back of the car, sleeping. Initially, Puck had wanted to sit in the passenger seat, but Finn insisted upon keeping his backpack there in case of an emergency. As of yet, they're fine.

All night he's been driving, and now the sun is barely peeping in the sky, but he knows it's early. He yawns into his hand, wondering how far away they are from Pittsburgh, when suddenly he hears Rachel.

"Oh man," she grumbles

He peers back at her again, "I thought you were s'posed to be sleeping?"

Rachel is suddenly climbing into the passenger seat, pushing his bag to the floor, despite his resistance, and holding a comic in her hand. "Okay, you'd be surprised, but this isn't a bad read." She holds it out for him to see, "there's only one problem." She flips to the last page of the comic, eyebrows scrunched together, "look, 'to be continued'." She drops the comic onto her lap, pouting. "I hate cliffhangers." Finn can't help but let out a small chuckle.

Then, he looks at it more closely. "Wait, where did you get that?"

Her face becomes sheepish, "from, ah, from Bill's." Finn throws his head back, sighing. It's a good thing that he probably won't see Bill again, seeing as the man would probably want to kick his ass for letting her steal his things.

"You get anything else?" It's more of a resigned statement than a question. He _knows_ she's got more.

"Well," she beams, "I found this." She pulls out a tape from her bag, "make you all nostalgic, huh?" He looks at it, taking it gently from her hands.

"You know, this was _before_ my time," he makes sure to tell her, "quite before my time, actually. But that is a winner." He pushes the tape into the player, smiling to himself as the sound of _Journey_ begins to play. "When I was a kid," he begins, "my Mom used to have this boyfriend and, ah, this was his favorite group. We'd sit in the backyard and just listen to this...yeah. Those were the times."

When he opens his eyes again, he finds Rachel giving him a funny look.

"What?"

"Nothing," she quickly shakes her head, "it's not important, I just..."

Usually, he'd just accept her refusal, but for some reason he probes for an answer, curiosity seeping in. "Rachel," he begins.

"What was it like?" she asks nervously.

He frowns, "what was what like?"

"The world," she says like it's the most obvious thing, "before the outbreak. I mean, they told us a little when I was in school, but not much. And I just...I always wondered what an average day felt like."

"Err, you know, not that much happened. I'd get up, go to school, and when I'd get home I'd hang out on my street, with all the other kids. Man, we'd do everything, but my favorite was definitely riding our bikes. Just feelin' the wind in my face, that speed...I felt invincible." He smiles, tapping his fingers along to the sound of the music.

He sits up straighter in his seat, "then my Mom would shout at me for staying out too late. But she didn't really mean it, I think. She just...she worried." He turns to Rachel, finding her surprisingly quiet. It isn't like her not to interrupt someone.

"Hmm, that sounds kind of boring." She tries to crack a smile. "No infected, no soldiers... where's the fun in that?" Her face falls, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. Finn feels that sympathy for her again, wondering if she'd enjoy the simple nature of being a kid when there was nothing to fear. He almost wishes that she could experience it... that she at least had those good times to look back on rather than only fighting for her life and living in a constant alertness. What's the saying? It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all... that kind of applies here, right?

He wonders how she'd be different having grown up in the pre-outbreak world. She wouldn't curse as much, that's for sure, but would she still have aspects of the Rachel he sees now? Well, it's hard to tell. The world they live in shapes every child born into it to become a survivor - tough, resourceful, and resilient. But Rachel seems different to other people he's met her age – she just has this thing that makes him want to protect her, no matter what, in spite of knowing she could probably take a few men out herself. It's a strange thing, but he realizes that he must be getting attached to her, if only a little. It screams against all the rules he's made for himself, yet Finn can't help it, and he doesn't know why.

"Yeah..." He responds quietly, not sure what to say to her.

Just as they're about to fall into silence, Rachel suddenly changes her tune. "Hey, I bet your friend's going to be missing this tonight." She pulls out another magazine; only this time the front cover causes his mouth to drop open.

"Err, Rachel, that ain't for kids -" He reaches for it but she's too quick, shifting out of his way. He gets another flash of a _very_ naked man and his...private area.

"Hang on...I wanna see what all the fuss is about," she begins, flipping through the pages. Finn sits there uncomfortably as he hears her gasps of shock. "Oh my god, how the hell does he walk around with that thing?" Her eyes widen, and she turns the magazine around to show Finn.

"I didn't need to see that," he says quietly.

"Hey, it's only natural, right? It's not like _you_ don't have one." She gives him the side eye, while he rolls his eyes. She continues flipping through the pages, 'oohing' and 'ahhing', until she suddenly stops, "oh, why are these pages stuck together?"

His face falls. "uh..."

She bursts out laughing when she sees his face, "I'm just joking."

"Please just get rid of that thing..."

"Alright," she continues in her laughter, pulling down the window. "Bye bye, dude," she says, throwing the magazine out in the rain. "You better now?" Finn gives her a look. She starts humming along to the music, picking up the tune. "You know what, this isn't that bad," she admits, leaning forward to turn up the volume.

The two stay like that for a while, Rachel humming while Finn taps along to the beat. It's nice, he thinks, but he also knows that nice moments don't last. This is a savage world, and he is almost certain that they'll meet a savage ending, but they're at least they're going to go down trying.

Beside him, Rachel casts a look backwards toward Puck, who's managed to curl into a ball on the back seat, limbs tangled and knotted. "Do you trust him?" she asks, much to Finn's surprise.

He hesitates before jumping into an answer. "He's going to be gone once we're through Pittsburgh, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Hmm, I guess not," she agrees. "But I don't know, you can't really trust anyone, can you?"

"Yeah. You _had_ to trust me and Santana." He recounts the whole situation, seeing that she had no other choice that to do so.

Rachel timidly begins, "I really am sorry about Santana, you know."

Finn nods his head, "I know you are." Rachel readjusts herself on the seat, gently leaning against the window. "You should get some sleep." But she's already got her eyes closed, the humming of the engine lulling her into her dreams.

A couple hours later, and the car creeps through the City. Puck is awake by this point, though he seems kind of jittery. When Finn raises an eyebrow in question, he leans forward in the seat. "Do you think that anyone's going to be there?"

"Honestly? I couldn't say. People are...they're surprising. _You_ made it this far, so the chances are that someone else did."

It's difficult driving through the City, with there being so many obstructions, and he's sure that he's wasted more time trying to get around them than driving straight. Soon enough he reaches the bridge, stopping the car when he notices the large amount of crashed ones piling up on the left turn. There's a bad feeling looming over him. He gives a look through the rear view mirror, then back to the road ahead.

Rachel makes a series of mumbles as she wakes up, wiping her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asks amidst a yawn.

No reply is given, instead Finn says, "fuck it," and urges forward, ever so slowly. The air is still between them, both Puck and Rachel able to feel the tension radiating from their fellow traveler. He scours the surroundings constantly, not wanting to get caught by surprise.

"Who's that?" Rachel points forward as the cars jolts to a standstill.

A man stumbles from a distance, holding at his stomach and his face tugging with pain, "_please... help_." He reaches out a hand, "_please_..."

"Should we go help?" Rachel poses the question, sounding a little unsure herself, but Finn doesn't share the same compassion.

"Put on your seatbelt, Rachel."

He puts the car in forward, revving up the engine. "What are you doing?" Puck nervously asks. But he never receives an answer as Finn slams down the gas and heads full throttle for the man, whose eyes widen with fear, before he pulls out a gun, aiming it at them. He's not fast enough. They hit him, the car rattling with the force, but still surging through the area.

Finn keeps the engine roaring, pushing them forward, but more men appear, shooting and jumping for the car. It's chaotic, each clinging onto parts of the car to remain stable, especially when the men that are attacking them use the steep road beside the car to push down a truck, which smashes into the metal of the hood, altering their course so much that Finn struggles to keep control. They swerve through the roads, eventually, the car bursting through a garage door and being forced into stillness.

"What the fuck?" Rachel exclaims, trying to catch back her breath. She looks behind when she hears a clicking noise, finding Puck holding a gun to the back of Finn's head. In an instant, she has her knife at hand, stabbing it into his wrist. He recoils, dropping his gun and hissing in pain, while Finn hurries from the car, opening the back and throwing a punch against Puck's cheek. Disoriented, it's easier to pull him from the vehicle.

"Come on," he throws Rachel's backpack at her, "we're leaving."

As soon as he finishes speaking, hands grab at his neck, and he suddenly hears Rachel let out a scream.

"Let go of me, you piece of shit!" she kicks her legs wildly as two men take hold of her, Puck slowly picking himself up off the ground.

"I found them in Boston. Kill the guy," he wipes the blood from his lip, "but the girl, keep her."

Rachel's eyes widen, her arm suddenly swinging around to hit one of her captors in the nose. He steps backward with the force, giving her just enough time to reach down the back of her jeans, where she pulls out a pistol, placing it under the chin of the one holding his nose and pulling the trigger. Blood spurts outwards while the same fate awaits the other holding her.

Puck moves to get his own gun, which is still in the back of the truck, but Rachel manages to get there before him. Her heart beating wildly, she aims both guns at him, watching as he holds his hands up in surrender.

Meanwhile, the one going for Finn holds him, strong enough to resist the struggling. He tries forcing down Finn's neck on a jagged piece of glass sticking out of a display case, or what once was a display case. Mustering all his strength, he pulls back, using his elbow to hit the bastard right in the balls. Clearly taken by surprise, it barely takes Finn a couple of seconds to usurp his position, grabbing his neck and slicing it across the glass. Falling, his fingers clutch where the blood seeps out, and Finn watches with a hard expression as he struggles to breathe until he ceases to live at all.

His eyes follow the sound of Rachel's voice, shocked to see her holding not one, but _two_ guns.

"I can explain," Puck tries reasoning with her, but it's fruitless. Before he even gets the chance to say another word, she sends a series of bullets through his chest. Each one tears through his skin, blood shooting from the exit wounds. The rich red color paints the wall behind him, and she holds onto the gun shakily as Puck gurgling, his lungs filling with blood, literally drowning him. Then, his body falls, landing in a heap on the floor.

Finn stumbles his way over to her, quietly checking her for any injuries."You had a fucking gun?"

She nods, staring at the lifeless body before her, almost as though in a trance. Finn reaches her, taking both the guns away, as he glares down at the girl. "I can't believe you stole a gun, specifically after I told you not to. You could have hurt yourself." Angrily, he shakes his head, taking his backpack from the truck and making sure they have everyone. "C'mon, we're leaving."

Though still a little shaken, she lets him start leading her from the room, only for them both to duck as a bullet collides with the glass behind them, shattering it.

* * *

**So Puck then? Who knew? :P**

**Please review :)**


	6. The agreement

**Posting this earlier than planned since I won't be able to get to my laptop for another couple of days! **

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing! :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"What the fuck is wrong with these guys?" Rachel cries out, hands over her head in a protective manner. He turns, seeing a couple more headed their way.

"Get down," he orders. They crouch behind the hood of the crashed car, watching and calculating the best plan. There aren't that many left, he notices. Maybe five at the most, but it's just the two of them now. His eyes briefly return to Puck's lifeless body, unable to believe that he allowed himself to be so stupid. No doubt the bastard was leading them here so that they could be ambushed. They almost died, and it would've been all his fault for trusting that guy.

But Finn has more pressing matters at hand than trust issues. His gun at the ready, he shoots the first two guys to get within a few feet of them, forcing his anger onto their killings and not anywhere else. Rachel crouches beside him, head back against the metal to stay clear of any incoming bullets. Her eyes drop to the floor, where a sudden shadow makes her freeze. She follows it upwards, finding another one of the men right in front of them, probably having sneaked around.

Rather than disturb Finn who's watching the other side, she dives for him, knife at the ready. But he's strong, too strong, and he manages to knock it from her grasp. Rachel panics, biting the strong arm wrapped around her chest, biting as hard as she can.

"Fuck!" he hisses, alerting Finn of his presence, who then kills him with one clean shot.

"You alright?" he asks her, now sure that there are no more left. His heart still beating frantically and his body brimming with adrenaline, he rushes to get his backpack on, helping Rachel up. They run from the room and out into the open, both as paranoid as the next. "We have to get out of here. We need to hide."

She tries to keep up with his fast pace, "you think that there are more of them?"

"I'm sure that there are," Finn nods his head, "c'mon, let's try this." He leads her to a garage door, slowly using his strength to lift it, just enough so that her small body can squeeze underneath.

"Oh man."

"What?" he asks, groaning under the weight of the door.

"There's some pretty gross stuff in here."

"Hold the door open for me," he tells her, "there, use them chains." She hurries over to the small system of chains, clenching her teeth as she lifts the door open.

"Got it."

Finn crouches beneath it, too, entering the dim garage to an awful sight. On the tables lay piles of rotting corpses, anything valuable taken from them. He takes a step back, lifting the back of his hand to his nose to try blocking the smell.

"Fucking hunters," he grumbles, before starting to close the door, to keep their cover secret for as long as possible. Never for a moment does he think they're out of the woods; there's got to be more lurking around.

"Hunters?" Rachel asks nervously, appearing at his side.

He scowls, "yeah, the name says it all. They hunt people; take anything that's useful from them." He then points to the bodies, "and then leave them to rot"

"That's awful."

"That's the way it is," he tells her. When he's grabbed all the supplies that he can find, he wonders where to go next. It'd probably be wise to get up to higher ground, to find a way out of this place. "Right, let's go." They find a stairwell, both hurrying up it, a sense of urgency surrounding them. "I saw this bridge on the way in... we should head for that."

"Okay," she says quietly.

Finn turns, feeling as though something is bother her. "Everything alright?" He slows in pace, allowing Rachel to catch up with him before they're both still in the small hallway.

She wrings her hands together, gaze rising to meet his. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That he wasn't hurt."

"Oh," Finn lets out a long sigh, "I've been on, ah, on both sides of those ambushes..." He doesn't like to admit it, especially seeing the realization in Rachel eyes, but back then, at the start of this hell, he had to do anything he could to stay alive.

"So you've... you've killed innocent people?"

Rather than give her an answer, he continues walking. That in itself is the answer she needs. He tries to focus his mind elsewhere, keeping his gun handy as they walk through the building. The room they find themselves in is filled with mattresses, and shelves full of supplies. "Looks like this is where the bastards slept," she says, helping Finn to store some of the food in her backpack.

"Hmm, better make ourselves scarce from here then."

Nodding in agreement, she follows him from the room, though it clear that neither know where to go. They have an overall heading but it's difficult to navigate through the building blocks that they've never seen before. He keeps up a quick pace, suddenly feeling hopeful when he sees a half open elevator.

Running toward it, he tries to force the doors open. It's a struggle, but eventually they succumb and he finds a ladder inside. "This way up," he says.

"Ugh, why can we never do things the easy way?" she complains, following Finn up the ladders. On top of the elevator, he is extremely careful, stepping past the thick wires holding it up to squeeze through to the other side of the shaft, where the door stands open. First, he has to step atop the next elevator, which groans under his wait.

Rachel joins him; her steps more cautious than his had been, though she soon find her way near the other door. "Boosting me up again?" she questions, noticing that it's too high for Finn to climb himself.

"Yeah," he nods, "then you find something to help me get up."

"Right."

They take the usual position, Rachel being lifted upwards in one swift movement, her fingers just about clutching the edge of the floor. As Finn brings her higher, the sound of grinding metal suddenly echoes around the small area.

And suddenly, there is no floor beneath him.

He plummets downwards, landing in cold, dirty water. When he surfaces, he hears Rachel frantically crying his name. "I'm fine!" he shouts back up. "Are you?" He wipes the water from his eyes, treading lightly in the water.

"No!" She exclaims, "you scared the shit of shit out of me!" She then hesitates, "I'm going to come dow - "

"Don't! I'll make my way up to you. Just...stay put."

She sighs, "fine."

Finn slowly wades through the thick water, giving her one last look before he follows through one of the lower doors into the hallway, where it's awfully dark, so much that he has to squint his eyes for any chance of seeing. The water leads him along the long room to an open apartment at the very end.

Light manages to stream through the boarded up windows, causing stripes to appear on the surface of the water, but other than that he sees no way out. Backtracking, Finn forces one of the remaining doors open, the slow current pulling him through as the water levels out. It's just another room, anything that could've been useful too submerged within the pool of water, but once again there's no way up. Worry beginning to pick up, he swims into the next one. The ceiling is no longer there, instead having fallen in a mess onto the furniture of the room, though it still provides a makeshift ramp upwards for Finn, and allows him out of the freezing water.

"I need to get to Rachel," he mumbles to himself, hoping that she hasn't ran into any trouble up there.

Now moving into a run, he sets out the find the next stairwell, knowing that she's on the next floor. The building is just as much of a maze of before, rendering him utterly confused as to which way he needs to go.

"_So, they finally got rid of that couple, huh_?"

"Shit," Finn freezes when he hears the sound of voices, standing flat against the wall while he bides his time.

"_I was sure they'd get out of the City_," the other replies, "_Five days they were here, and then they just started shooting at the Gate. Stupid fucks. If they would've kept quiet, they might have escaped._"

Finn peers around the doorway, finding four people at the end of the corridor, stood in a small group. Tugging off his backpack, he starts to prepare a Molotov, knowing that they need to be taken care of, but not wanting to gain the attention of any nearby. He stuffs the rag into the bottle, quickly lighting it, before he sneaks forward and into the open. He's sure that they won't see him, until his foot barely touches a brick, scraping it across the floor.

"What the -" They all snap into action, guns at the ready, and Finn doesn't have any time to aim, so is forced to throw the Molotov in their general direction. It smashes, catching fire in an instant, before Finn has to duck to avoid incoming bullets. Screams soon follow, and he peeks over to see three of them having caught fire.

"_Come on you, fucker!"_ the other shouts, shooting the wall inches away from Finn. He grabs out his pistol, fumbling around with reloading the damn thing. As he's doing that, he can hear the man approaching, footsteps becoming louder. Waiting for the opportune moment, he remains still and gives out shallow breaths.

When he is within a few feet, Finn jumps up, pulling the trigger and sending a couple of a bullets into his chest. He checks for any more, satisfied that he's alone, before he takes any remaining ammo from the bodies, rushing down where they'd been standing. He makes sure to keep moving swiftly, sure that they're not the only ones lingering about. The hallway opens up into a large area, grimy couches pushed into one corner.

He finally finds a way up; some ladders in place of fallen stairs. Walking through a large puddle in the middle of the floor, he starts to climb them hurriedly. They're rickety as he climbs them, but the only thing on his mind is that he needs to find Rachel, and _now_. If he's running into more hunters, then there's a high possibility that she might be, too.

Just as he ascends to the top, a foot comes down against his face, kicking him backwards and onto the floor with a painful thud. Groaning slightly, he doesn't have enough time to recuperate, the attacker jumping down from the ledge, a crazed look in his eyes. "You killed my friends, you asshole." He kicks Finn in the side, causing the man to groan, trying to get himself off the ground when the hunter uses his body weight to pin Finn down. "And now I'm going to kill you." His rough hand pushes down Finn's face into the water, keeping him from surfacing. He struggling, kicking his legs in an attempt to knock over the man, but it's to no avail.

To his right, he sees the gun that he'd dropped after falling the few feet to the ground, hand desperately clawing against the ground to reach it. He manages to punch the bastard with his other hand, allowing him a few crucial seconds to take in a deep breath, before he finds himself fully submerged once more, hands tightening around his neck.

_Come on_, he thinks, fingers merely millimeters from the gun. He's slowly running out of breath, lungs aching with the need to exhale.

Just as he's about to lose all hope, a hand appears, wrapping around the gun and shooting the man holding him under the water. He sits up, spluttering and blinking profusely, to find Rachel holding the gun.

"Are you okay?" she breathes, and he peers to her hand to see it trembling.

He rolls so he's knelt down, "I'm fine."

Sitting herself down, she drops her head, "I feel sick."

"I thought I told you to stay where you were," he says, snatching the gun back from her.

She instantly looks his way, shock and annoyance flashing through her eyes, "well, you're glad I didn't right?"

"Glad I didn't get my head blown off by a goddamn kid."

Her brows knit tightly together, Rachel standing and advancing his way. "You know what? _No_." Finn finds himself staring back at her in shock. "How about, I know it wasn't easy for you, but thanks for saving my ass. You have anything like that for me? Huh, Finn?" She waits expectantly, arms crossing over her chest. "It was either you or him, and it was almost _you_." Her mouth purses together tightly, "if it wasn't for me, you'd be dead."

Finn places the gun back where it belongs, giving her one look, before heading back the other way. "come on, let's go."

She drops her head in defeat, biting her lip to stop herself from having another outburst. "You're the boss." He climbs up the ladder without a hitch this time, Rachel sulking behind. This place must've been a hotel, he thinks, with the large hallways and abundance of elegant bedrooms. He runs down the hallway, slightly paranoid that there are more hunters around.

As usual, the stairs are out, so he jumps the small distance to the lower floor, "we need to find that bridge," he says out loud.

"Just tell me where to go," Rachel mumbles.

Sensing her annoyance, he swiftly moves forward, thinking that if they keep occupied, it won't escalate into another fight – if you could call what just happened a _fight_. They enter what was once a dining room, looking as though there'd been a wedding during the outbreak. Half eaten plates of food remain, while the decorations are now covered in a thick layer of dust and age.

But other than that he can't see a way to get out, seeing as the way onto the balcony is blocked by a large railing around it. He sighs, turning to find Rachel staring a backdrop of a paradise beach scene, the camera and lights, though not working, are still in the same set up as they would've been on the day.

Slowly, he steps up behind her, Rachel turning as she senses him there. "It's a, uh, a backdrop. People would get their pictures taken in front of it," he offers.

"I know what it is," she huffs.

Finn raises a brow in surprise, then can't stop himself from asking, "okay, what's bothering you?"

She lets it all out in an instant, "I wasn't trying to disobey you back there Finn. You were taking a really long time and I was _worried_. I thought that maybe something bad had happened to you, which it _had_. I just... I thought that we had each other's backs..." She sighs, "but I guess for that to happen, you've gotta trust me, and let me, you know, help you once in a while."

"I know," he says, "but Rach, I've got to make sure that you're safe no matter what. Do you know how important your life is?"

Rachel frowns, "I do. If something happens to you though, I'm pretty much fucked, so I'm going to do anything in my power to keep _you_ safe, even if it means not listening to what you tell me to do." Absorbing her words, he takes notice of her expression, too, realizing that she's not backing down on this.

"You're too stubborn, you know?"

"Pfft, so are you." She gives him a small smile. "Anyway, if I agree you let you help me more, you've got to agree to let me help you out once in a while."

It isn't much of a debate, knowing that it's the only compromise they're going to meet at with Rachel letting him protect her more, while he supposes that having someone watching over him won't be bad, either. It's not like she hasn't done that already, he admits to himself. Like she said, she can handle herself, but it's just taken him too long to realize that.

"Alright, deal." He holds out his hand, surprised when she ignores it to instead engage in a hug. Her head barely reaches his shoulder, reminding him again just how small she is, but there's something oddly... _nice_ about the interaction, so much that he finds himself reciprocating. Finn is the first to pull away, though, clearing his throat, "c'mon, we've gotta find a way up there." He nods to the upper floor of the balcony, "I think we can get out through one of those windows."

She steps back, beginning to peer around the room, "we could use one of these tables, or... or that piano over there." Jogging over to where it stands mid stage, she plays a couple of the keys, cringing slightly at the loud, out of tune noise that it makes.

Finn joins her, "good thinking. Help me get it over to that ledge."

They take either side, shoving the heavy instrument across the stage, until it slams against the wall, the sound vibrating around the room. "Shit, somebody could've heard that." he stands atop the piano, "let's get out of here."

"Right behind you."

He scales the wall, leaning down to give Rachel a helping hand, and tugging her up to her feet. The window at the far end is the only one not boarded up, leading them outside again, only this time high enough to have a good view over the town. Finn moves down first, some scaffolding placed on the side of the building providing the best cover, especially when he hears voices.

"_They haven't got back yet."_

"_Seriously, what's takin' them so long?"_

"_They might have ran into the pick up truck duo. They took out the whole East side team, you know?"_

"Shh," he tells Rachel when she reaches him, "get down." He checks around the small, enclosed area, where there's a large armchair in the corner, hidden from anyone below by the sheets of thin plastic covering most of the scaffolding. In the chair, a skeleton sits, still clutching to the rifle. Finn gently pries it from the remaining bones, "alright, now I'm going to go down there and clear them out."

"And me?" she asks immediately.

He begins to stand, "you stay here."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You just said that you were going to let me help mo- "

"I _am_," he hushes her, leaning the gun on the wood between them, "now you seem to know your way around a gun... you think you can handle this?"

Her wide eyes look initially surprised, then she takes the rifle, "well, it's kinda like my BB gun, huh?" Finn gives her a look. "It's the same concept, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," he moves closer, crouching down next to her, "now lift it up." She does so, pointing it over the area with the hunters patrolling around. "Alright now, you're gonna want to lean right into the stock, 'cause it's gonna kick a hell of a lot more than any BB gun."

She nods, squinting her eye as she practices aim, "got it."

He continues, "go on and, ah, pull the bolt back." He points to it, "Right there, just tug it back – perfect. As soon as you fire, you're gonna want to get another round in there as soon as possible, 'kay?" She nods. "And Rachel," he begins quietly, leaning in even further, "if I get into any trouble down there, you make every shot count, alright?"

Rachel turns her full attention back to him now. "I won't let you down." Taking a deep breath, Finn prepares for the battle ahead, finding a ladder to get him down.

Just as he's lowering himself onto it, he stops, calling Rachel's name. "Just so we're clear, back there. It _was_ either him or me..." With that, he hurries downwards.

She stares at the spot where he'd just left, a smile sliding onto her lips. "You're welcome," she says, knowing he won't be able to hear it but wanting to say it anyway.

* * *

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ducks for cover. The place is littered with men, and he'd rather take them out silently and without a fuss. The perfect weapon for this is the bow, which he slowly removes from his backpack, finding his first target. He's circling where the two streets meet, a gun carried over his shoulder, and he's also the only one that's separated from the rest of the group. Finn places an arrow in the bow, gently prying back the string as far as it will go. He narrows his eyes into tiny, dark dots, before finally letting the arrow go, watching it fly through the air and straight through the man's neck.

He lets out an awful, strangled noise, then drops to his knees, body following to the ground. Staying low, he stealthily moves into one of the buildings, tracing the steps of his next two targets.

Just as he's entering the building, a searing pain hits the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. "Ah, fuck!" Turning onto his back, he finds himself face to face with another hunter, lifting the bat in his hand for another blow. Before he manages that, a shot is fired, causing his body to jolt to a stop, the bat falling from his fingers. Then, he drops backwards, blood beginning to pool from his chest. Finn looks up to where Rachel is, mumbling, "good shot."

Quickly, his plan of being sneaky is altered as the men crowd into the area, having heard the first bullet. Finn shoots for the first one he sees, sending a bullet straight through his head. The next proves move difficult, like Finn trying to keep out of range. But Finn can see him just peeking from the side of the car; he aims for the knee, missing the first time, yet the second is a perfect hit. He falls to the ground, screaming in pain, and bringing him completely out into the open. Taking advantage, he sends a couple of bullets to his chest, rendering him still.

More appear, flocking from nowhere, and forcing Finn to take a better hiding place. He rushes into the building where two men were hiding, confronting one with a brick to the face, followed by Finn's bat. It strikes him down, the sight of his friend dying sending the other man running for aid of the others. "Yeah, fucking run," he mutters, grabbing for a fully loaded gun.

Shots shatter the window, forcing Finn to protect his head in cover of the flying glass. He hears the rifle going off a couple of times, silently cheering Rachel on, before he knows he has to take the others out himself, or otherwise her hiding spot may be revealed. Finn peeps around the doorway, surprised to see a man barely a few feet away. Rather than shoot, he jumps him, finding it better to strangle the poor bastard that waste any ammo. Once he slumps, Finn uses it as a human shield to advance toward the others, dropping the body just in time to shoot the next.

With incredible luck, he manages not to get shot himself, finally getting down to his last enemy with shotgun in hand, blood dripping down his right cheek, and a determined look in his hazel eyes. But this one isn't going down without a fight. He tries to shoot, but Finn is faster, and steps right up to him, the barrel of his own revolver aimed straight for his head before he shoots, watching him drop.

"Alright, you can come on down." As Rachel slowly begins her descent, he kneels down on one leg, lifting the gun from the dead body before him. It's not like he's gonna be needin' it. He checks the pistol for ammo, seeing that it's almost full.

Footsteps sound behind him, "so, how did I do?"

"You did good," he nods, reaching to take the rifle from her, watching as her face lights up at his words. "So, er, how about something a little more your size?" Rachel looks momentarily confused until he holds out the pistol for her. She hesitates, "you don't want it?"

"Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

"You were... you were right. And it's about time you had something other than that knife, right?"

She smiles, "thank you Finn." He can't help but smile back.

"Okay, now let's find a way outta here." He looks to where they've just come from; moving in the opposite direction, though the street is cordoned off in most areas, leaving them a little trapped. He notices a fire escape, eyes peering up toward the ladder.

"This is how it ended for this zone, then?" she asks. Slightly confused, Finn joins her where she stares at the wall, reading the graffiti scrawled over the bricks in thick white.

_**Death for freedom.**_

Below, dead soldiers are left there, bodies decaying in the middle of the street. "Every war has a losing side," he says.

"But what if they had families?" she questions, sounding genuinely upset.

"Everyone has a family." With that, he moves away, returning to the ladder that he had been trying to free up. "C'mon, see if you can get it down." She hurries over, letting him lift her as usual. After some tugging and pushing, the ladder slides downwards, metal hitting the floor with a loud _clang_. Rachel moves up, waiting for him on the fire escape, which leads the two around the building and down into another alley.

"Look," Finn stops her, pointing ahead where there's a thin gap between two buildings, "there's our bridge." Seeing it even closer renews their hope, and the pair push on, reaching the lower ground. The sound of more voices causes Finn to slow, once more, though he realizes that they're not dealing with too much of a situation when it's two voices at the most. He stops, straining his ears to find their source, when he notices the door open to one of the buildings.

He doesn't say anything to Rachel, instead pointing in its direction and hoping that she'll get the hint. They creep in through the back, sitting and listening.

"_Guess how many_."

"_Twenty?_"

"_More_," he says, voice brimming with excitement.

"_Twenty two?"_

There's a pause, before he proudly announces, "_try twenty five."_

"_How the hell did you get twenty five cans of bacon?"_

Finn peeks over the back window into the store, seeing the two men walking back and forth. When one paces his way, he crouches again, listening as his footsteps slow. His eyes meet with Rachel's, who slowly reaches into her pocket, pulling out her knife. He realizes exactly what she means, taking it within his own grasp.

He waits patiently for the hunter to walk around again. He counts the steps. One, two... As he makes the next one, Finn pounces up, steadying the man's neck, then stabbing the knife straight through it. There's no time for him to struggle, before his head lulls down and Finn gently drops his body, ducking down behind the wall again as not to be seen.

"_Chris? Hey man, what the fuck are you – oh shit_." Finn can hear him running over to his friend, taking the perfect opportunity to take him out. He grabs his gun, choosing the right moment to jump up, shooting two bullets and hoping that it does the job. One hits his shoulder, the other going more central.

While he goes down, the sound of the gunfire is going to alert more men, and Finn is eager to get a move on. "Right, this way," he jumps over the wall into the store front, able to see through the large glass windows onto the street outside them. The only thing he isn't expecting is to find one of those military tanks staring back at him.

"_**Shit**_."

He pushes Rachel behind a display cabinet as it starts shooting, bullets flying straight through the metal at an alarming rate. As they move forward, so does the vehicle. "Fuck, what are we going to do?" Rachel asks when the shooting stops.

There's barely a five second break before the relentless attack begins again, the two having to practically lay flat on the floor to avoid it.

"Wait... wait," he begins, listening out for another break. As soon as it hits, he runs to the window, jumping over the ledge just as more bullets head their way, "now your turn." He counts again, "now, come on!" Rachel flies forward, joining him outside the building, but that doesn't mean they're safe; the car just follows them down the street.

"What the fuck is wrong with these guys?" Rachel cries, running after him as they flee the bullets. One skims her shoulder, causing her to stumble, only for Finn to put her steady again. He grabs her arm, pulling her around a corner to get them out of the firing line.

"Are you okay?" His fingers brush against the small wound, anger soaring through him. "Those fuckers."

Her eyes move from his to behind him, "we gotta go." She takes hold of his hand, running further into the alley to escape the vehicle. "Finn!" she calls out when a man advances their way, teeth gritted and gun at the ready. His first shot misses, leaving Finn time to grab his bat, throwing a hit his way. The spikes and nails pointing outward crunch their way into his head, killing him in an instant.

"Holy fuck," Rachel murmurs, this time letting Finn lead.

Turning behind her, the truck too chases them, so strong that it knocks any car out of its way, an unyielding force catching up. They run as fast as their legs can carry them, both panicking when they run into a wire fence, one which offers no way over.

"Quick," Finn finds a door, using the full force of his body to barge it open. There's no way that truck's getting in there. They scale the stairs, finally allowing a small break at the top, both gasping for air.

He finds himself taking another glance at her shoulder, seeing the blood sinking into her shirt around it. "Does it hurt?"

"It's okay," she says, her voice strained, "but we need to hurry. It's only a matter of time until they find us." Finn agrees, trying to think of which way they need to head, but after that attack, he's completely lost any sense of direction toward the bridge. They move through the apartment complex, paranoid that they're still being chased.

"C'mon," Finn says, opening one of the windows, "we'll have to go out this way." He tentatively places one foot on the small ledge beneath the window, then the other. Albeit a little shakily, he begins moving along the ledge. "Rachel, hurry up."

"If I fall - "

"You won't," he assures her, waiting for the girl to join him. They both shimmy along the wall, trying their best to stay sure footed, though that's difficult when they're a couple of stories above the ground.

"Shit, it's that truck again!"

Finn can hear it, bursting down the street, and he stills, his back flat against the wall. "They can't see us. Just keep going." He continues along the ledge, finding an open window, and quickly climbing inside. Turning, he reaches out a hand to help Rachel in when he's caught by surprise as a pair of strong arms slide around his neck, tightening as each second passes.

Him and his attacker both hit the wall behind them as Finn struggles to get free. "Finn!" Rachel exclaims as she jumps into the room, taking out her knife instinctively and diving for the guy's arm.

He hisses in pain, peering up to see Rachel, which causes confusion to spread across his face, "what the -"

This allows Finn enough time to slip from his grasp, knocking him to the floor and punching as many times as he can, his face, his stomach and his groin.

"Wait, wait," the man tries to stop him.

"Finn, stop!"

"Finn."

"_**Finn!**_" It takes her having to tug him away for Finn to slow his attack, raising his head to find another man, or more a boy, pointing a gun their way. "Look."

The boy holds the weapon a little unsteadily, but his eyes darken toward them. "Leave him alone."

"Whoa," he holds up his hand in surrender, "just take it easy." With cautious, hesitant movement, he stands up, stepping backwards so that he's beside Rachel.

"They're okay, Blaine" the other one, slowly sitting up and holding his blood nose, "they're not the hunters." He looks up to Finn, "you hit hard."

He grumbles slightly, "yeah, I was trying to kill you." The smaller one, Blaine, by now has lowered the gun, but still watches Finn and Rachel with distrust. The feeling is mutual.

The other stands, wiping himself off and wearing a sour expression. "Yeah," he agrees, pulling a bandage from Blaine's backpack, "we thought that you were one of them, too." He gestures to Rachel, wrapping the bandage around the small knife wound, "but then I saw her. In case you haven't noticed, they don't keep kids around."

Blaine steps forward to help him with his bloody nose, tenderly wiping it away, "are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," he says, waving off his friend's worries. "I'm Kurt," he introduces him, "and this is Blaine. I think I caught that your name was Finn."

"Rachel," she supplies, hope filling her voice, not that Finn shares it.

Finn is straight to business, not having time for the introductions. "How many people are with you?"

Dropping his head sadly, Blaine mumbles, "they're all dead."

"Hey, we don't know that," Kurt counters, peering to Finn and Rachel to further explain. "Those hunters ambushed us. Someone had the brilliant idea of entering the City for supplies, and then they caught us by surprise. Separated us. It was only by luck that Blaine and I stayed together... I don't know what I would've done if..." He can't finish the sentence, not wanting to say it allowed.

Blaine continues for him, "now we're only worried about getting out of this hellhole."

Beside Finn, Rachel eagerly suggests, "maybe we can help each other?"

"Shh," he tells her, reaching for her arm to bring her closer to him. After the last instance with Puck, he feels the need to protect her stronger than ever.

"Safety in numbers and all that!" Finn glares her way, not that she takes any notice, instead turning her attention to the other two, "you need to get out of the City. And so do we. If there are more of us then we stand a better chance against those hunters."

"She's right," Kurt agrees, looking down to Blaine, "we've got a hideout, not far from here. It'll be safer if we save this conversation for there."

Considering it for a couple of minutes, he eventually nods. If they wanted to kill them, they would've done it by now, and the pair seem like they can handle themselves, so they'll be more of a help than a hindrance. He finally nods, hoping trusting these two won't be a mistake like the last time. Anyway, this time he'll make sure to keep his gun handy, just in case. "Alright, lead the way."

* * *

**Some new people, huh? Wonder if Finn and Rachel will be able to trust them ^.^**

**Please review :)**


	7. The escape

**Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews! And any constructive criticisms. I'll take it all on board :)**

**Thanks to Lucy for beta'ing, as usual. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Follow me," Kurt says, checking around the door before leading them from the room. Finn rushes to keep up with him, not at all wanting to run into another one of those hunters, though he supposes the four of them could probably take them with ease. "We've got to be quick; we're right next to one of their lookouts."

He nods, turning around to make sure that Rachel is still on his tail. She walks with Blaine, the boy asking, "so where're you guys from?"

"Boston," she says, "what about you?"

"All the way from Hartford."

Her face falls, "oh, I heard some bad stuff is happening there."

Blaine sighs, "the soldiers abandoned the zone. It was... it was crazy. There was no food, no protection. It's why a group of us left, to search for somewhere better to live." The story sounds all too familiar to Finn, having been through the same thing before. Soon enough there'll be no quarantine zones, especially with the way the government are running them. Instead of trying to produce sustainable food, to restart any power, they scavenge for what is left, and keep the most for themselves.

They're led down a long stairwell, Kurt appearing rather paranoid. Still, he manages his own conversation, "so, is it just you and your sister?"

"She's not my sister. I, uh, I promised a friend that I'd look after her."

"I can appreciate that. It's how Blaine and I met." He peers back to him, "and we've been together ever since. Three whole years. People come and go, but it's always me and Blaine."

"Yeah," Finn whispers.

They reach a set of stores, creeping through them until they realize that there is no one guarding this part of the City. Light pours through the large glass windows along the entire front wall, where displays once stood, yet by now it's all a pile of garbage. He remembers the frantic rush for supplies the few months after the outbreak, people looting from wherever they could. Clothes, food and weapons were stolen by anyone able, even his nine year old self.

The lack of security in this area allows them a few minutes to look around, though in between the toy store and shoe store he doesn't think they'll find much.

He moves over to where Rachel's standing, peering over everything on display. She brushes her fingers along the line of key-rings, looking utterly transfixed by them. "What are these? And who's the weird masked guy?"

Laughing to himself, he takes it off the hook, "it's a keyring. You can put 'em on loads of stuff. Keys, obviously, bags, wallets. And this," he holds up the small red and black one, "is Spider-man."

"Who?"

"He's a superhero. Saves the world and all that shit."

She gives him an odd stare. "How does he do that?"

"Well, because he has superpowers." If anything, this leaves her further baffled, "you see, he gets bitten by this radioactive spider, and that gives him powers, which he then uses to save the world by fighting crime and the bad guys."

"Oh," she says, "that's pretty cool. Reckon' we could use a superhero, to help us flank the bad guys, huh?"

Moving the keyring between hands, he tells her to turn around, before attaching it onto the zipper of her backpack, "there you go. Now you can have one with you all the time." Rachel's smile grows, brighter than he's ever seen it before. It's pretty, he realizes, _really_ pretty. Then he blinks, clearing his throat, questioning why he would be thinking that about Rachel of all people.

A little nervously, he steps away from her and joins Kurt and Blaine instead, just as the sound of an engine gradually increases. "Get down!" Diving to the ground, the four peek over the window ledge to see a group of people running frantically through the street. The truck malevolently chases after them, throwing out bullets at an alarming rate. The victims to this attack run as fast as they can, having no weapons to save themselves.

"What do we do - " Rachel begins, reaching for her weapon, when Finn instantly puts a hand out to stop her, "what?"

He remains silently, watching the scene play out before him. It doesn't take long for the guns to get to the group of three, all but one knocked dead straight away. The last, a woman, writhes in pain as the truck screeches to a stop, a couple of hunters climbing out. "_Please, please, don't kill me - _"

"_Shut up_," he sneers, sending a shot straight through her head.

"_Busy couple of days, huh_?"

"_Let's just sort this out and get back_," the other replies, leaning down to check the bodies, "_pfft, just some old shoes and clothes. They ain't got nothing_."

Leaving the bodies where they lie, the men climb back into the truck, driving where they came from. Once they're out of sight, Finn finds Rachel staring at the lifeless bodies, "there ain't anything we could've done."

"I know," she replies sadly.

"That fuckin' truck," Kurt begins, "it's been hounding us for days."

"Yeah, we had a run in with it before," Rachel says, "almost got us too." She takes a glance to her grazed shoulder.

"We should really get to this hide out of yours," Finn interjects, not at all feeling safe out in the open like they are. And he certainly doesn't want to end up like those poor bastards outside.

"Up this way," Blaine instructs, leading through to the back of the store and up a ladder to the next floor. They weave through the rooms up there, Finn and Rachel thankful that they're finally with someone who knows the buildings relatively well. He just constantly feels lost, and when faced in such a dangerous world it's never good to feel that way.

As they near the hide out, tensions are no longer running so high, and he dares to let himself relax. "Here we are," Kurt begins, unlocking the door in what seems to be an office building, their "hide out" apparently the main office.

"How did you get that key?" he questions curiously.

"Jumped one of those guys when he was by himself," he shrugs, "he won't be needing it now." With a satisfying _click_, the door opens, revealing a large, open office space. All four flood in, Kurt locking it afterwards.

"You hungry?" Blaine asks, running over to the large desk in front of the bookcase. "We have blueberries."

Rachel looks impressed, rushing over to him, "how on earth did you get blueberries?"

"We, uh, found them," he lies, rather badly.

"Found them. Stole them. Same difference," she laughs. Finn rolls his eyes; he wouldn't expect anything less of the girl that stole a gun.

While Blaine and Rachel relocate themselves on the plush looking couch, he joins Kurt at the half boarded up window. "You want some?" Kurt asks, gesturing to the food. Then he notices how agitated Finn appears, "hey, relax. We're safe."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

"Look," Kurt points through the window where the boards moving in zigzags, with gaps of light shining through. He follows the direction of his gaze, seeing a group of the hunters standing at a lookout, built adjacent to a huge gate, the same which blocks passage through to the bridge and out of the City. "We can keep an eye on them here," Kurt explains, "you see, by day there's too many of 'em patrolling that gate, but at night it's down to a skeleton crew. Sure they're still watching, but there are less of them, and that's our chance to leave."

"Could work," Finn contemplates it, fingers gently rubbing at his chin.

"Oh," Kurt begins confidently, "it'll work. It will definitely work..." He trails off when he hears laughter projecting from the other side of the room. Finn turns, too, seeing Rachel and Blaine trying to throw a blueberry in the air and catch it in their mouths. Blaine catches it, while Rachel misses, the blueberry landing on her forehead, causing the pair to fall into a fit of giggles. "It's nice to see him smile," he admits, "sometimes it's just..._hard_ in this world, you know." Finn nods. "She doesn't seem that bothered by all this..."

With a deep sigh, he lowers his gaze, "she's seen a lot." But Finn doesn't allow any time for him to respond, adding, "so where are you two headed?"

They find themselves a couple of seat, Kurt eagerly beginning to speak. "We're trying to find the Fireflies; heard they're out west somewhere." Instantly his ears prick up, surprised to hear they're not the only ones looking for the Fireflies, though he supposes there must be more groups like theirs searching for the "hope" that the Fireflies offer.

"Yeah," he says, "seems like a lot of people are putting their stock on the Fireflies these days."

"There's gotta be a reason for that."

He nods slowly, leaning back in his chair, "so you have no idea where these Fireflies are, but you're just going to drag the two of you cross country to find 'em?"

"Hey," his face darkens, "how about _I_ worry about Blaine while you worry about your girl?"

Finn lets out a low laugh, "relax. We're looking for the Fireflies, too." Realization floods Kurt's face. "Maybe Rach was right... we could band together to find the Fireflies?"

He reaches into his pocket, producing a map which he slams onto the table beside them. Quickly, he flattens it out, pointing to one of the scribbles on the paper, "alright, this is us, and this," he moves his hand upward, "and this is an abandoned military radio just outside of the City. We're supposed to meet any survivors from our group here, tomorrow." He looks Finn in the eye, "so if you and your girl wanna join us, we're getting out of here... tonight."

"Then we best get some rest," Finn suggests, rising to his feet.

* * *

"Finn," Rachel's voice gently brings him from his sleep, the man blinking profusely before his eyes focus on her, "Kurt says it's time to go." Swiping a hand over his tired face, he drags himself out of the chair that he'd taken up residence in to sleep. The others are already up and waiting, Kurt and Blaine apparently having a private word in the corner. He heads over to Rachel, who in turn stares through the window at the bridge. "Something bothering you?"

As always, she doesn't hesitate, "we're going to make it, right?"

Momentarily taken aback, it takes him longer to reply. "Why are you askin' me that? Of course we are."

"But it just seems like every time we make plans, they don't work at all, and then one of us almost dies."

"Hey, that's not going to happen this time."

"How do you know?" she peers up to him, face clearly not believing his words. Feeling himself sigh, he slowly leans himself against the wall. "You've been wrong before."

"Rachel," he begins, "I'm going to do _everything_ in my power to make sure that the both of us get the hell out of here, okay?"

She seems to accept that, slowing nodding. "Alright." Finn gently places a hand on her shoulder, leading her over to where Kurt and Blaine prepare themselves for the plan. Ideally, they'll be able to sneak past the majority of the guards, only having to take out those close to the Gate, though nothing is set in stone, and they don't know what problems could arise.

"You ready?" Blaine asks as they approach. He picks up his backpack, gaze holding the worry that they all feel.

"We're good," Finn speaks for the two of them. Kurt nods, giving one last look to the hunters gathered by the gate, before he opens the door and leads them from their temporary safe room. "You ever tried this before?" he asks curiously.

A pause. "Yeah, kind of."

"That's reassuring."

"Relax. It's all going to be fine," he says confidently.

"Hmm, just lead the way," Finn grumbles in response, turning on his flashlight. Kurt does just that, guiding them through the maze of dark rooms. The only thing that can be heard is the patter of their feet, as no one dares to say anything. He can feel how high the tensions are amongst the group: this may be their only chance of evading these bastards, and no one wants it thrown down the drain as a miserable failure.

They hurry two floors down the central stairwell, Kurt stopping them quietly before they move through the next door. "Here we go. Blaine, no matter what, you stick to me like glue, okay?" The boy nods "And just... be as sneaky as possible. These guys are like hawks."

"You can say that again," Finn adds. He reaches down, gently curling his fingers around the doorknob before twisting it with as soft a force as he can. After that, he lightly pushes it open, just enough so that they can creep through. It opens out to a huge room, most of the furniture stolen by now, but he turns to see some chairs to the right, central to them a huge canister with flames poking from the top. Two hunters stand at opposite ends, warming themselves with the fire.

"Let's take these two out quietly," Kurt suggests, making himself blend in with the shadows. Nodding in agreement, Finn stalks up the left side of the men, using the remaining furniture to protect himself from being seen. However they barely peer behind them, instead on looking the Gate through the large window. In simultaneous movement to Kurt, he reaches the men, suddenly jumping up to grab him. It takes one slice to the throat to have him on the ground, and for there to be one less man to worry about.

For a brief second, he enjoys the warmth that the fire brings, before it's taken away as he hears some of the other hunters speaking, forcing him to crouching.

"_Anything interesting happen tonight_?"

"_We put down a few infected, but we still haven't ran into those tourists from today_," he responds.

The other scoffs, "_those fuckers. The amount of men that they've killed, there better have been a fucking army in that pick-up truck._" They continue on their way, walking straight past the building and down the street. When they're gone, Finn tries to get a better scope of the area and how many men they're dealing with.

His eyes are instantly attracted to the huge spotlight glaring down onto the street, located somewhere up on the lookout where one of the hunters stands. It constantly moves back and forth, filtering the area for anything out of the ordinary. "That's going to be a bastard to get past," he mutters to Kurt, who stands behind him.

"Just stay low," he says, "you and the girl go first, and we'll follow."

Finn nods, "okay." Turning to Rachel, he beckons her forward, "let's go." They wait for the spotlight to arrive near them, following its movements with their own from car to car. Rachel is so small that she can't be seen when hiding behind the car, but Finn makes an effort to duck his head down each time the spotlight passes them. It's extremely nerve wrecking, knowing that one wrong movement could mean it's all over.

"_What was that_?" one of the hunters on the spotlight suddenly asks, causing Finn to hold his breath, pressing further into the side of the car. For a moment, he thinks that they've been spotted, heart beating frantically.

Then he hears the sound he's come to fear. That persistent clicking. And it's getting closer.

"_It's a clicker._"

"_Where? I can't see it_." They begin moving the spotlight further down the street, noticing the creature that's ambling its way down. A series of shots head out, though none take down the clicker. "_Man, where the fuck'd you learn to shoot? Gimme the gun_." This time, it only takes two before the clicker drops to the ground, no longer a threat to anyone. Finn begins to panic slightly when the spotlight no longer moves, remaining a few feet ahead of them and blocking their path.

He rises to peek through the window of the car, to discover the men still arguing with each other about who has a better shot. Finn peers back to Kurt and Blaine, then to the hunters, and he's forced to make a quick decision.

Ever so slowly, he inches forward, gaining on the spotlight. "Finn," Rachel says, voice etched with concern.

"It's fine, they're not looking." He appears from the protection of the car, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart as he heads into the blaze of the spotlight. If they turn now, they'll definitely see him.

"_Hey!_"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," he dives forward, returning into the darkness, before flashing out his gun. Only, it's not him who the hunters had spotted. Spinning around, he finds Kurt and Blaine in a struggle with a group of them. Kurt is in a fist fight with one, gaining the upper hand when he knocks a punch right under the hunter's chin.

Meanwhile Blaine struggles with the others. One grabs him from behind, locking his arms into place so that he can't use them, while the other pulls out a knife. Rachel runs to his aid, lunging for the one approaching Blaine with the knife. She can't reach for her own knife, so instead resorts to biting his neck, shocking the man to stumble backwards, dropping the blade. Blaine manages to free himself of the bonds of the other, kicking him in the groin before sending a hit right across his cheek. He takes out his gun, shooting him straight through the head.

But all three are forced to duck as the men at the lookout begin to shoot their way, a much more powerful gun at their disposal.

Finn, still hidden, takes out his pistol, aiming it upwards with the advantage of surprise. With their attention focused on the fight below, he manages to take out one, the body dropping from their post to the floor a few feet beneath them. Another shot and the spotlight explodes with a shower of glass, before the area plummets into further darkness.

Knowing that the others can handle themselves, he sprints toward the gate, taking shots at the last obstacle to their freedom. The man hides behind the broken light, making it difficult for Finn to get the right shot.

He rushes for the stairs leading up to them, moving from the bullets shot his way, though they all hit a little too close for comfort. It's pure luck that he reaches the top completely unharmed, and manages to strike the bastard with a crunching hit. Losing his balance, he begins falling backwards, though Finn catches him just in time, twisting his neck until it cracks. Finn lets out a long breath, jumping to the lower ground, finding the other three headed toward the gate.

"Everyone alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," Blaine says, though he looks a little shaken.

But their reunion is cut short as lights blink into existence further down the street, the sound of men shouting barely head as the growl of the engine sounds, the same one that they've all come to recognize.

"Oh crap," Rachel mumbles, "we need to get outta here."

Finn and Kurt begin pushing at the huge, intimidating gate, groaning under the weight of it. "Come on," he yells, as though the gate is a living, breathing thing that can understand the urgency of the situation. The rain of bullets begins again; just as they slip open the door, Blaine and Rachel going through first before they're followed by their counterparts.

Blaine hurries forward, "this way!"

Using some stray wood to block the doors, Finn joins them in running down the street, where Blaine is staring up at a wagon, a ladder placed on the roof of it. "Blaine, you get up first," Kurt says, helping to boost him, onto the wagon, the urgency of the situation increasing when the hunters begin ramming their own truck into the gate. "It isn't going to hold," he realizes, rushing up after Blaine.

Now it's Rachel's turn, reaching out for a hand as she climbs onto the ladder. The minute she steps onto it, the left side snaps off, sending her flying to the side. Finn catches her foot, pushing her upwards. Just as she manages to get steady, the Gate bursts open, followed by the roar of the truck. "Come on, help me up!" Finn says, now having no ladders to aid his ascent. Rachel stretches her arm downwards, but she isn't strong enough to tug him up by herself.

She turns to Kurt and Blaine, to find them moving away. "What the fuck?"

"There's not enough time," Kurt tells her, shaking his head, "I'm sorry."

"You can't just leave us - " She calls after them as they run from the wagon, but that's exactly what they do, leaving her at a loss of what action to take next. "Fuck you," she says.

"Rachel, run. Go!"

Finn ducks as incoming bullets rain over him, "hurry, Rach!" He hears her jump back down beside him, turning to stare at her with an '_are you crazy'_ expression.

"We've got each other's back," she says simply.

He barely has any time to reply as another round of shots are aimed their way, and he focuses more on finding a way out of this place. They're so close, so near to escape, but they can always fall at the last hurdle. Taking one last look at the wagon, he tries to contain his anger at being abandoned by the other two, before he leads Rachel over to a garage door, the pair hurrying to pry it open. She slips under first, then uses the chains to keep a large enough gap for Finn. Just as she drops it, the metal vibrates with the onslaught of bullets.

Running from the room, he desperately looks for a door out, "you got your gun?"

"Yeah, why?"

"'Cause you may need to use it," he explains.

She nods, taking the pistol out and poised to use at any given moment. They move through what seems to be an old restaurant, never straying from the other. He can hear the sound of those fuckers after them, but is determined for them to escape, no matter how many lives it may cost. Reaching for his bow, he whispers to Rachel, "I'm going to take care of these guys. Watch my back."

"Okay." Finn keeps crouched to the floor, slowly moving forward so that he can get a better shot. He's not exactly confident with the bow, yet he knows it's the most effective weapon in this situation. From his position in the doorway, he pulls back the string, readying the arrow, before raising the bow to aim. It would help if the men stopped moving so much, causing Finn to wait for the right moment, and to predict their steps. He releases the arrow slight ahead of his target, cursing when it narrowly misses him, instead breaking against the wall. This forces him to act quickly, especially since his cover is blown, and he immediately sends another arrow his way, this time the weapon slicing through his chest.

The other is already hiding, gun in his shaking hands. "You motherfucker! You're never going to get out of here alive." His words are cruelly spat, "Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged," Finn mutters to himself, preparing the bow once more. Steadying his hold, he aims it just above the counter obscuring the man. As soon as he dares peek up, to get the shot himself, the arrow finds itself shot through his forehead.

"Good shot," Rachel praises. He nods, even managing to have impressed himself.

"I can't see any more," he glances around, listening out for any sound, "let's find a way out." They each take a side around the crescent shaped bar, scouring the area for anything they could use, before meeting up in the middle. Finn grabs the cart that blocks the door, shoving it out of the way and noisily across the room, while Rachel yanks open the glass door. "There's the bridge." He says, finding the monument that they've been tracking the entire day right in front of them. "C'mon!"

He bursts into a sprint, hearing Rachel hurrying after him on the jam-packed road. As they cross over to the bridge, the truck barges its way through cars and obstacles, an unstoppable force. His heart frantically skipping back and forth in his chest, he urges his legs to carry him faster.

"_They're headed toward the bridge. __**Get them**__!_"

They zigzag through the cars blocking the bridge, trying to avoid the ferocious attack of bullets sent their way. "Keep going!" he encourages Rachel, who has managed to sneak ahead of him, her size allowing for more agility.

"_You're not going to get away_!"

The bullets almost catch him, sending Finn to the floor. Seeing this, Rachel immediately spins on her heels and runs for him. "No! Just fucking run!" She ignores him, helping him back onto his feet where they then continue to sprint, at one point forced to crawl beneath a wagon to evade the truck. When they rise, they instantly return to the previous speed, before coming to a painful halt.

"Oh shit," Rachel cries out as she stares down at the huge, gaping hole where the bridge _should_ be. Instead, meters below them is an angry body of water, waves crashing back and forth. She looks down at the intimidating river, before looking to Finn with desperation in her eyes.

He feels his heart drop, hopelessly clawing away at his insides. "How many bullets do you have left?" he asks her, looking back to see where there hunters are. Maybe, just maybe they can take out that fucking truck. But it's not going to be easy.

"They're going to kill us," she says what he's thinking, pacing back and forth.

"But what other choice do we have?" he demands to know, panicked when the wagon behind them jolts forward as the truck crashes into it from the other side.

"_**We're coming for you assholes!**_"

Rachel rushes over to him, fear striking her expression. "We jump," she tells him.

He's shaking his head before she can even argue her case, "it's too high and you can't swim. I'm not taking the chance." Finn looks back to the barricade of cars, "I'll boost you up and you run past 'em, try and stay quiet." The truck reverses, before moving forward with more force and banging into the wagon again. This time, the car in front of it is shoved to the side, the majority of its weight hanging over the edge. It begins to slide down and the concrete beneath it crumbles, taking the car into the water with it.

"Oh my God," he mumbles.

She pleads now, "you can keep me afloat."

"Rachel." He desperately tries to think of a plan, but between facing the broken bridge and the persistent chase of these bastards, he can't think.

Another crash; it feels like another blow to his chest.

He turns to Rachel, their eyes meeting slowly. The girl begins backing toward the edge, her face paling, "there's no time to argue." And with that, she throws herself over the ledge.

"Rachel!" he screams, lunging to catch her, but it's no use. "_Fuck_," he says, finding himself diving after her before he even has time to think. It's painful as he hits the surface, the water encasing him and dragging him with the current.

He urgently tries to take in some much needed air, keeping himself above the surface. "Finn!" At the sound of Rachel's voice, he turns, catching sight of her a few feet away, flailing her arms in an attempt to stay afloat. Right away, Finn swims over to her, wrapping his arms around the girl and holding her to his chest as tightly as he can.

"I got you," he assures her, trying to keep her calm in such a scary situation. The water pulls them despite his efforts to slow down, but he maintains his hold of Rachel, feeling her own fingers clinging to his arms with all her strength. The next thing he knows, they slam against what feels like a slab of metal, his world instantly turning black.

* * *

The first thing he feels is the ache within all his muscles, causing him to groan to himself, wishing that he could not feel a thing at all. Then he's aware of a hand in his, a small, delicate hand, and the first thing that comes to his mind is Rachel. Wait, the bridge, jumping in... is she okay? "Rachel?" his eyes shoot open, finding himself staring at an early morning sky.

A face obscures his view, one that he thought he'd never see again. "Kurt, he's awake!" Blaine calls out, rushing over to the other man.

Finn peers around, confused, before he finds Rachel smiling down at him. "Hey, you." Her grasp on his fingers tightens, "we made it. Now come on, let's get you up." He's so happy that they're alive and relatively unharmed that he allows her to aid him onto his feet, though he feels initially unsteady on them. That is, until he sees Kurt and Blaine returning, as does the anger within him.

"What did I say, Blaine? Everything is fine," he announces, stepping toward Finn and Rachel. "Blaine was the one that spotted you, you guys had taken quite a lot of water - " He never gets a chance to finish as Finn bursts forward, shoving Kurt to the ground. Just as quickly, his gun is aimed at the man.

"Kurt!"

"Get back," Finn warns, his face completely stoic.

Kurt holds his hand up, trying to keep his movements slow, "he's not going to do anything. He's pissed, but he won't do a damn thing."

"You wanna try me?" Finn says, stepping forward.

Blaine tries putting himself between Kurt and the gun, "stop!"

"Step back, Blaine!" Kurt pleads.

"You left us to die," he growls. He knew that trusting more people would only end up in a disaster like this, and he can't believe that he let himself be fooled again. Bill is right. It's the normal people that he ought to worry about, not the infected.

"You had a good chance of making it," Kurt counters, "and you _did_ make it. The truth is that staying behind would have put Blaine in danger, and I wasn't prepared to do that." Finn grip doesn't waver, nor does his face become softer, "admit it, if it was the other way around, you'd do the same thing to protect the girl."

He finds himself glancing back to Rachel, who gently places a hand on his shoulder, face surprisingly calm. "Finn, he only did what he thought was right." Her hand slides down his shirt, coaxing his arm to lower the gun, "and we're fine, aren't we?"

"We almost died."

"How many times have we almost died?" she begins, "it has nothing to do with these two."

Though he doesn't want to admit it, he knows that she's speaking the truth. It seems like they're having these close calls every single day, like there's a bad omen stalking the pair. One last glance toward Rachel and he shoves the gun back into its holster, stepping away from the man. Rachel lingers near him, as though checking to make sure that he doesn't make any further rash decisions.

Blaine is instantly at Kurt's side, helping him up, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he says, wiping off the vest that he wears and then glancing over to Finn and Rachel. "For what it's worth," he begins, "I'm actually glad we spotted you. She was right, you know, we _can_ help each other."

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time," Finn grumbles just quietly enough so that he and perhaps Rachel can hear. If she does, she doesn't react.

"Now that radio tower is on the other side of this cliff," he says, "and I'll bet there are plenty of supplies on here. You're going to be real glad you didn't shoot me." He glances around the beach that they stand on, "let's look for stuff we can use and then head on our way." Despite still being pissed, Finn nods along, walking the other way to Kurt and Blaine, hearing Rachel on his tail.

He turns briefly, then sighs. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she responds, "that was kinda intense but I wasn't the one that almost got shot."

"You almost drowned though."

"I'll be fine," she insists. They continue along the dirty sand of the beach, reaching a swept up boat. Finn jumps on first, opening the door to the small room near the hull, before searching for any supplies. Something catches his eye, causing his to return to the shelf he'd just been searching to take the wrinkled comic in his hands.

He smiles, "hey Rach, I think I found one of those comic's you've been reading." He steps out onto the deck, finding her set firmly on the sand, apparently insistent on avoiding the boat. Still, she looks excited as he hands it to her.

"Ah, cool." She stuffs it into her backpack, waiting for Finn to finish so that they can head back to others.

"Guys! Come look what we found," Blaine shouts from a distance away.

"Probably another way to almost kill us," Finn mutters as he trudges past Rachel. In turn, she gives him a bemused stare, following after.

* * *

**So, what do we all think of Kurt and Blaine? Trustworthy or not? ^.^**

**Please review :)**


	8. The bite

**Sorry for a longish wait! I've had a couple of busy days :)**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing (and for your ideas, too!)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

When they meet up with Kurt and Blaine, they find them stood by a large grate chiselled into the side of the cliff. "Found a way in," Kurt begins, "here, let's get this open." Finn steps up to help, the four pulling the metal grate open with much effort. Rachel slips beneath first, followed by Blaine. "Alright, go through," Kurt tells Finn, holding it steady.

Once through, Finn returns to favor, letting it close down with a loud series of echoes along the sewer pipe.

"It stinks," Rachel says, scrunching up her nose.

"Well, it _is_ a sewer," Finn points out, trying his best to avoid the rancid smell surrounding them. The pipe is large enough so that he can just about stand upright, but it still isn't the ideal place. "Alright, let's see where this goes."

"Should take us straight through the cliff," Kurt comments, taking up lead alongside Finn, "Blaine, stay -"

"I know, stay close," he interrupts, turning on his flashlight and bringing the pipe to life. Small plants grow on the floor, while dark greens and browns cover the rest of the surface. Finn follows it out to a larger room, where the floor is a shiny cover of water, and the walls are equally as grimy.

Rachel sighs, walking out ahead of them, "water, _great_."

"You're fine," he tells her, a small chuckle escaping his lips as she tries to find the shallowest points, "it ain't deep."

"It's still water," she mumbles. As they step further inside, the smell gets slightly better, though barely, while they find all sorts of junk lay about the water. In one corner, brick and rubble pile up, creating the only dry land in the room. Not surprisingly, Rachel chooses to wait there as he looks for supplies, only coming up with some tape and a couple of blades.

He turns, finding Kurt and Blaine already moving forward. With a small grumble, he gets Rachel and heads after them, joining back up where the room splits in two directions. The other pair take the left, so he supposes that he and Rachel ought to take the other side. To be honest, he wouldn't be too upset if they got lost from Kurt and Blaine, seeing as he's still pretty pissed at them.

Urging on, he steps through the cold water, flashlight pointing ahead into the dark walkway. "Ugh, I don't like this place at all," Rachel announces, climbing over a fallen and cracked piece of piping, which the water gently wades and wanes against. Finally, they find themselves on a concrete floor, leading to an assortment of rooms. One is cordoned off by some wiring, Finn moving forward to take a better look.

"Rooms full o' supplies," he comments, shaking the metal, "and fucking thing's blocked." He strains his neck trying to get a better look inside, seeing if there's any other way to open it.

"What about here?" Rachel pipes up, voice echoing through the narrow halls. She points to a small ventilation shaft in the wall, "look, it leads into there. If you can get it open, maybe I can crawl through."

Leaning down, he first observes the grate, then gives it a good tug to pull it off without much difficulty. The movement disturbs a sleeping rat, which squeals and runs the other way. "Oh man, that's a big rat," she says, dropping to her hands and knees before tentatively entering the makeshift tunnel. Finn steps back, listening to the sounds of her making her way through, until finally the grate bursts open inside the storage room, Rachel popping her head from inside.

She's instantly on her feet, rushing over to the crates which stand in the way of the door, freeing it up. Opening the doors, she beams, "voila!"

Finn gives her a strange look, "you know, some of the things you come out with... 'Voila?'" He laughs, shaking his head. He carefully looks through the shelving units and cupboards, filling his backpack with all sorts of goodies.

"I read it in a book once," she says, almost defensively.

"Which book?"

Rachel shrugs, "don't remember. I've read way too many to remember what they're all called. Some of 'em were pretty shitty, but there are some okay ones. Like I read this one... about this kid. He was, ahh, a... a wizard, and he went to this big ass castle for a school. Erm... pigfarts?"

"Hogwarts?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, that was it!"

"I wouldn't have put you down for a _Harry Potter_ fan," Finn announces.

She nods, "well, it was good." Then, the girl shrugs, sitting herself primly on one of the stacked up crates, "There wasn't exactly that much choice of stuff at the school that I went to." He doesn't reply, not wanting to be reminded of the few years he spent in one of those military boarding schools. Shaking his head, he heads back out into the hallway. "You ever read?" Rachel asks, almost eagerly.

Finn hesitates, "er, not much. My mom used to read a lot. You know, those crappy romance novels."

"What crappy romance novels?" she looks confused.

"Huh? You never read _Twilight_, or whatever the hell it's called?"

"Nope," she responds, popping the 'p'.

"Lucky," he mumbles, "I was forced to watch the movie. It ain't good."

She follows him as they step into what appears to have been a laundry room, barrels of water, pipes, and baskets of old, stale clothes. "Well, what was it about?" The girl questions curiously, routing through all the exposed items. He finds himself looking too, wondering how many people lived here, if it has such a large laundry room as this.

He turns to Rachel, "this girl falls in love with some sparkly vampire."

"What?" she laughs, "a vampire?"

"This monster – drinks human blood to stay alive." He explains.

"And these things... they _sparkle_?" Her forehead is completely creased as she stares to him with surprise. It must be an entirely surreal concept to Rachel; it's strange enough to him, so her mind must be muddled up right now.

Now finished in that room, he leads the way out. "Well, not exactly. Just the ones in that book. I'm not sure why, either."

Rachel accepts this with a nod, stepping downwards back to the hallway. It becomes darker the further down they travel down the tunnel, water dripping slowly, annoyingly into the puddles by the walls. "So these two people fall in love then?" She questions, forehead scrunching up in thought,"like Kurt and Blaine love each other?"

"Pretty much," he says, squinting his eyes to see the path ahead, "expect neither Kurt or Blaine sparkle or thirst for human blood."

"Not that we know," she jokes, humming as she passes him. All Finn does is shake his head, though he can't resist the small smile that fights his lips. Then, she adds loudly, "they're the first people I've seen, you know, that are actually... _in love_." As he looks forward, he catches her glimpsing backwards, almost shyly, "before that – I dunno... it's like one of those things that you hear about, but never actually see."

Finn finds himself nodding along. The world that they live in is one predominantly of hate and fear, and sometimes it feels like there isn't enough room for something as simple as love.

She slows in her movements, arms slowly interlocking as they cross over her chest. "It makes you wonder, huh?"

"Wonder what?" Finn asks her, taking long strikes to catch up with the girl.

Peering sideways, she gives a tiny, sad smile. "If it'll ever happen to you." His silence speaks louder than words, and she quickly misunderstands, "oh, it _has_ happened to you?"

"No," he's quick to deny. "Never."

"So you and Santana...?" He winces at the sound of her name, "I'm sorry, I was just... I was curious."

"We weren't together," he replies coldly, but that doesn't surprise her. Instead, it makes her gaze at him sympathetically, deciding that it's probably best not to probe any further. She nods, biting her lower lip, before continuing to move forward through the sewer. The air seems to become colder with each second, causing them both to shudder, Rachel tightening her folded arms.

The tunnel soon opens out into a larger expanse of rooms, most of which appear to have been used as bedrooms. Mattresses and bunk beds line the walls, while shelves are scattered with personal items. In some of these rooms, children's toy bulge from boxes, while others are strewn across the floor. "Looks like somewhere was living here," Finn comments, checking through the large shelving units for supplies. She picks up the one of the toys, a small stuffed bear, holding it tightly between her fingers.

"What do you suppose happened?"

He sighs, regretfully. "All it takes is one open door and the infected get in. By then it's too late."

"...Oh."

A few rooms away, something falls, both Finn and Rachel tensing. In unison, they reach for their guns, the stuffed bear being dropped to the floor, and Finn leads them from the bedroom to peak into the hallway. He places a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to keep quiet. Rachel nods. Cautiously, he steps out, back pressing up against the cold wall.

He tries to keep his breathing steady and slow as more noises follow. One foot in front of the other, carefully so, Finn is soon outside the room in which the source is within. He checks his gun for ammo, and then jumps into the doorway, gun pointed inside the room.

"_Holy fuck_!"

As soon as he hears Blaine's exclamation, he rolls his eyes, lowering the weapon to his side. The two men stare, wide-eyed and slightly confused. "We thought that you were infected," Finn begins, clearly annoyed, "you're sure as hell making a lot of noise."

"Sorry," Blaine begins sheepishly, "we were just looking." His face lights up, "we found a whole stash of blades."

Finn grumbles in response, turning on his heel to leave the room. These two are going to end up getting them hurt or, worse, _killed_. As he leaves, Rachel chuckles toward him, her hand somehow ending up rubbing his tense arm and – surprisingly – it does calm him. When Kurt and Blaine join them again, they move further into the sewers, finding more evidence of the little civilisation that made this place home. Among more bedrooms, they find kitchens and shower rooms.

"Look like these guys were living the life," Kurt comments, not remembering the last time he felt the soothing warmth of a hot shower.

"Don't you think it's weird that there aren't any bodies?" Rachel questions, standing a few feet ahead of Finn as she peers at the "house rules" painted against the metallic walls.

"Maybe they escaped," Blaine suggests hopefully.

Finn and Rachel share a more doubtful glance. He sighs, "just stay alert." Straining to see in the dim rooms, Finn aids Kurt as the man struggles to get a blocked door open. They push in unison - once, twice, and then with one final shove it bursts open, Finn and Kurt stumbling into the room. Before them, a box weighted with bottles slams against the concrete floor, the escaped bottles shattering. Shocked, the two stand there as a series of clicks echo around them, but all wait with baited breath as to what will happen next.

And then the grinding squeak of metal rubbing on metal erupts from above. Before there is any time to react, a door falls down, separating the ground into Kurt and Finn on one side, and Rachel and Blaine on the other.

"Shit," Finn says, running to the door. There's a small window in the form of a few bars, allowing him to see the pair both okay, if a little shaky. He slams his hand against different points of the door, trying to find a weak spot in order to open it while Kurt frantically tells Blaine that it's going to be fine.

"Can we open it?" he finally asks Finn. The man sighs, shaking his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Moving a panicked Kurt out of the way, only a little, he peers down at Rachel through the gap. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she breathes, though looks slightly unnerved at the fact that they're separated. "You?"

"Hmmm." It's not much of a reply, but she seem to understand that he'd rather her be there with him. At that, she holds back the smallest of smiles. Just as Kurt's barging at the door, fruitlessly, they hear the fear inducing sound of clicking, each inhuman click becoming louder and louder. Kurt's face pales, and Finn finds himself reaching for his gun.

But then he realizes that the clickers aren't on _their_ side of the door. "Rachel, look out!"

"Shit," she mumbles, tugging out her gun. She sees exactly how many there are, mouth dropping open. "Blaine, run."

"Don't you go anywhere," Kurt calls through the bars, frantically.

"They'll be okay," Finn assures him, knowing fully well that Rachel's capable of holding her own, and Blaine seems to be able as well. "We'll find a way around to you," he says to Rachel, adding his own, "be careful," as worry seems to strike him, too. She nods, eyes promising that she will, before she tugs at the material of Blaine's shirt, Finn watching helplessly as they move further and further away. "Looks like it's just us," he mumbles to Kurt, moving on.

Kurt peers back to the door, his expression torn.

He sighs, "Kurt, let's go. We'll make our way 'round to them."

"Bu -"

"_Come on_." He understand Kurt's hesitance – he's not entirely okay with Rachel being away from him either, but they'll find their way back to them eventually. Tugging out his gun, he keeps it handy just in case they run into some of the infected themselves.

For the first few minutes, it's silent, and he finds himself continuously twisting back to look at the fretting Kurt. "Look, the quicker we move, the quicker we'll find 'em."

"I'm sorry," he begins, hurrying his pace, "I just worry about him, you know?"

"Yeah," Finn nods, "I can appreciate that." He then sighs, "it's hard to find someone that you trust, and then when you do... you don't want to let them out of your sight."

"...is that how you feel about Rachel?"

Finn pauses, before admitting, "yeah, I guess it is." It's barely been a few days since they met, and already he's trusted his life with the girl. "But it's different," he adds, "than with you two. We've only just met each other."

"Really?" his brow quirks in surprise.

"Really," he nods, "and it's been... a crazy few days."

"So, how'd you meet her?"

"Well, I never imagined I'd end up here," he admits, peering around the sewers, "honestly, I thought it was just going to be another smuggle. Get the girl out of the City, and get a whole bunch of guns in return."

Frowning, Kurt questions, "why were you trying to get her out of the City?"

"I was s'posed to drop her off with this group of Fireflies. But when we got there, they were all dead." For a moment, he thinks about that moment in the Capitol building, Santana returning to the forefront of his thoughts. He shakes his head, sighing.

"And then you decided to go find them yourselves?" Kurt asks, knowing how hard it is to be in search of the elusive group, having been chasing them for weeks.

"Yeah, well I know this guy that'll be able to find the Fireflies, so I'm taking her there first." He pauses, giving a glance to his new companion, "and, you know, you and Blaine... if you want to." Though he's experienced first hand how deceitful people can be, there's something about Kurt and Blaine that makes him feel like he can trust them. They're not like Puck, who had nothing to lose. They've got each other and, just like him, they're more preoccupied with protecting what they have to rather than tricking others and then stripping them of all they have.

And okay, he didn't like them at first, even more so when they abandoned him and Rachel back in the City, but they only did what he'd do. He can admit that. In order to protect Rachel, he would've left the pair without a second thought.

Kurt peers up at him in surprise. "Well, if you don't mind us tagging along."

"Nah," he smiles genuinely now, "Rachel was right. It's safer with the four of us, and it'll be good for her to have someone more her age, you know?" He lets out a low chuckle, "don't tell her I said she was right, or I'll never hear the end of it."

"Duly noted," Kurt nods with a smile. "Thank you, by the way. Without your help, we may have never gotten out of the City." He returns the sentiment, wondering himself if just him and Rachel would've been able to elude the hunters. It sure seems like a long shot.

The pair return to a comfortable silence, Finn contemplating confessing something to Kurt, something that they may very well end up finding out by themselves, anyway, and perhaps it's best to let it out sooner than later. He inwardly sighs, and then takes the plunge. "Kurt." The smaller man's head tilts to the side as he peers upwards toward Finn, "before you start travelling with us, you need to know something, and it's, ah, it's really important."

He nods calmly. "Go ahead."

"Rachel's immune."

"_What_?" Kurt balks.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm not lying," he quickly adds, "it's why we were smuggling her out of Boston. I'm taking her to the Fireflies so that they might be able to find a cure." He looks to Kurt, wondering what's going through his head. He remembers when Rachel had first told him, and it'd taken a while for him to actually realize that it was the truth, but hopefully Kurt will accept it faster than him.

The other man lets out a long breath. "Well... this certainly is interesting." His forehead creases with thought, "I never even considered that someone could be immune before."

He shrugs, "yeah, me either. But now it's kind of like, my duty to get her there." It is a huge amount of pressure, he realizes. She's the answer to the cure, and it's his job to make sure that no harm befalls her. Considering this, he begins to walk faster, insistent on finding her soon, before just that happens.

Kurt speeds up, too.

"So, you believe me?" Finn asks, a little surprised.

"Well, you wouldn't make that up, would you?" he counters, "and if she'd been bitten, she would've turned by now, so really it's the only logical explanation." Kurt pauses, pursing his lips together, "still, it's kind of shocking."

Yeah, he knows that feeling.

"Now I've just got to tell Blaine."

"Oh."

He's quick to assure Finn. "Don't worry. He'll be happy. It'll give him some hope, you know – he keeps looking for hope."

"Yeah," he agrees. He doesn't remember when he gave up searching for that. And he's not given any time to dwell on it either as noises erupt from down the hallway. Kurt and Finn share a look, before the pair break into a run toward the source, which gains volume with each passing second.

And then. "_Blaine, hurry up_!"

The relief that soars through him at the sound of Rachel's voice is overwhelming, so much that he just kind of stands there for a couple of seconds until Kurt literally drags him toward them. He soon joins him in a sprint, the hallway opening up into another room, filled with machines and metal piping. Just as they enter, Blaine and Rachel burst in through the other door, a hoard of infected piling in after them.

One knocks Blaine to the floor, others soon swamping around him, while Rachel takes out as many as she can. Kurt surges forward, determination in his eyes as he shoots the one pinning Blaine to the floor, gun swinging around to meet the next infected.

Rachel helps Blaine to his feet, breathlessly asking, "are you okay?"

Though a little shaken, he nods and backs away from the diminishing group of infected. Finn's ears pick up the sound of more of them, apparently headed their way. "C'mon," he orders, pointing to the stairs just ahead, "we need to get out of here."

He leads the way, quickly finding Rachel by his side, and immediately he's grinning. "It's good to have you back," he admits. And really, it _is_.

"It's good to be back," she returns the smile. She casts a look backwards at the few infected still on their tail, forcing her small legs to carry her faster as they ascend the stairs and twist around the corner. Her lungs burn for air, but she ignores it as she tries to keep up with Finn, who rushes up another small set of steps.

The metal clangs under their footsteps, the noise almost deafening, and even more so with the inclusion of the infected's screeches. The adrenaline in their bodies keeps them moving, and the pounding in their ears soon blocks out any other sounds.

That is, until Finn spies a potential exit. "Look, in that room!" he points to the door, a small window above which allows in the bright daylight. They all hurry inside, Kurt and Blaine shoving the door closed after them, only for there to be persistent banging on the metal mere seconds later. Finn drags in a painful breath of air, rushing over to the door on his exhausted legs.

Trembling fingers wrapping around the handle, only for it to be _locked_.

"No," he whispers, head swivelling back to stare at Kurt and Blaine keeping the other door closed, for now. He then looks down to Rachel, who shares his panicked expression. "No, no, fuck." He tries kicking the door, but nothing.

Then Rachel is staring upwards and he follows her gaze to the small window, sharing her thoughts in an instant. He bends down, getting a steady footing, before making room for her to step up on his hands. She quickly moves onto the small platform, allowing Finn to lift her in the air, where she then shoves open the window and just about squeezes through the gap.

"Be quick," he tells her as she disappears on the other side, though he's unsure of whether she can hear over the sound of the infected. While she works on the door, he scurries back to Kurt and Blaine, adding his strength in an attempt to keep out the infected for long. Each time they slam against the metal, the threatening noise reverberates around the entire room, and he scrunches his eyes closed.

It feels like an eternity later when Rachel manages to get the door open, though only slightly. He sends Blaine first, whose small body easily slips through, and then Kurt. By the time it's his turn, his limbs are shaking with exertion over keeping the door closed, and the sprint toward the door seems like a mile long run.

He pushes his body through the small gap, feeling hands on the other side tugging him outward. Finn practically falls out, body landing to the floor in a heap, while Kurt and Rachel force back the filing cabinet that was keeping the door from fully opening.

Before he even has time to catch his breath, Rachel is by his side, "are you alright?"

She starts checking him over for any damage, just as he breathes out a, "I'm fine," and then suddenly he finds his body wrapped in her small arms, which squeeze him tightly. This time he happily returns it, relieved to see her okay as well.

Like earlier that day, Rachel lifts him to his feet, not that he really needs the help, and the four once again share a look. He notices Kurt giving Rachel a thoughtful glance, and he truly hopes that trusting him with such an important piece of information wasn't a mistake. "You've got to be kidding me," Blaine suddenly exclaims, looking up to the wall of the building they'd just left, and he reads the scruffy handwriting, "infected inside, do not enter." If only they'd known that before.

Turning, Finn suddenly finds himself facing what they've been looking for. "Won't be much of a walk to the radio tower then," he comments, finding them practically there already. He finally finds it in him to smile again. "C'mon, I'm starving." And with that he begins to lead the group down into the thinning woods.

* * *

"Shut the hell up," Finn laughs as they sit in a small group on the floor, surrounding a boiling pot of some of the food they'd managed to scavenge. The delicious smell and warmth radiating outwards puts the three in a good mood, allowing them to relax for the first time that day. "You did _not_ ride a Harley."

"I did," Kurt insists, "my Dad, he was a mechanic and he loved fixing up old bikes. So when he got his hands on this Harley he was so excited that we could drive around in it."

"And?" he asks expectantly.

Kurt nods, "yeah, it was good."

"Good? Can you believe this guy? _Good_? That's all you have to say?" Finn shakes his head in disbelief.

Rachel begins to stand, having heard enough talk of cars and bikes, "well, I think you two deserve a little privacy."

"No, Rach," Finn begins, "this isn't just any motorcycle, you know? It's like, _the_ motorcycle. You get on that bad boy, feel that engine... ain't nothing like it."

"Yeah, how would you know?" She crosses her arms, inclining her head slightly to the side. He noticeably slumps, not making an effort to reply to her. "Exactly," Rachel says, spinning around to move into the next room where Blaine is sat.

As soon as the door closes, the mood seemingly drops, Kurt staring out at the night sky, "I don't think anyone else from our group is coming."

"Yeah," Finn agrees, his face turning stoic.

Kurt sits himself straighter, deep worry lines creasing his forehead. "The worst part is telling Blaine." He frowns, "he gets attached too easily. He'll be... he'll be devastated."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," he tries to help, "he seems like a strong one."

"You have to be these days. But he's still... he cares about people – not a lot of us do that any more. Blaine... he's different." He hesitates, "after my Dad died, I just kind of shut down – I didn't want to care about another person again. What's the point if they're just gonna die, right? But then I met Blaine... he taught me that it's okay. He said that life isn't worth living if you haven't got anybody to care about." A small smile grows on lips, "he made me into a person again, after almost ten years of just... _surviving_."

"Sounds like you got yourself a real special guy," Finn comments.

"I have," he nods, eyes lowering to the ground as though in deep thought. Finn allows him the few moments inside his head, keeping quietly as he himself mulls over Kurt's words. He lost his Mom, too, and many other people that he's cared for. Admittedly, he doesn't let his emotions show that easily, but maybe Kurt's right; maybe that's his problem. He's just surviving – he's not living. Not any more.

Kurt suddenly snaps out of his thoughts, turning his attention to the cooking pot. "What do you say to seconds? We normally don't do that, but after the day you've had..."

"I won't say no to more," he sits up eagerly, not remembering the last time he got to eat so much.

* * *

It's dark as Rachel steps into the room, finding Blaine slumped over the desk with piles of cans to his right. "I think it's safe to say those two have officially bonded," she announces, Blaine peering up from his work to look at her. He doesn't seem too pleased to have company, and goes to pick up another can. "What're you doing?" she asks curiously, stepping over his way.

"Just important stuff... like taking stock of food, you know," he explains.

"I see," she nods, reaching forward to take the can from his hand, "and how are we doing on...canned peaches?"

He snatches it back, "did Kurt tell you to come and check up on me?"

"No." She gives him a confused look, "why would he tell me to do that?"

"He worries about me too much," he leans back in his chair, shoulders dropping down, "he's very... protective..."

"Yeah, I get that. It took me way too long to convince Finn that I can actually take care of myself," she perches herself on the edge of the desk. "_Anyway_, I think we all did pretty awesome today. Especially you. Kurt has nothing to worry about. Like when that guy had hold of you but you managed to overpower him. And then in the sewers with that clicker – it didn't stand a chance, huh?"

Blaine stands, moving over to the window, where he leans over and stares outside. "Hmm."

"Is everything alright?" Rachel enquires.

"It's fine."

She hesitates, her intuition telling her to probe further, but at the same time she doesn't want to upset him, not when they're only just starting to travel together. "Okay..." Blaine continues to stare at the forest outside, while she slowly steps toward the door, feeling like maybe he won't be the best conversation after all, not in this mood, "well, have a good night.."

Just as she's moving to open the door, he quietly asks, "how come you're never scared?"

Rachel freezes, staring at him with a cautious expression. "Who says that I'm not?"

"What are you scared of then?"

Stepping back into the center of the room, she begins, "hmmm, spiders are pretty creepy."

"Forget it," Blaine mumbles, clearly not wanting to talk if she's going to joke around.

"Being by myself," she admits, closing her eyes briefly as she gives out information that hardly ever leaves her mind. She doesn't even like thinking about the prospect of it, the idea making her feel sick."I'm scared of...ending up alone." Hearing this, Blaine turns around to stare at her again, as though sharing that feeling. "Your turn," she says.

"I'm scared of those things," he gestures outside. "I'm scared of watching people that I love turn into them... I'm scared of that happening to me." His face becomes even sadder, Blaine apparently having perfected the sad puppy dog look. "I mean, what if the people are still inside? What if they're there with no control of their minds or bodies? What if they're just..._trapped_?"

She slowly moves over to him, speaking in an assuring tone. "Blaine, that isn't going to happen to you. We're a team now, and there's two more people watching your back." Her expression becomes graver, "and those things... they may look like people, but they're definitely not inside there anymore, okay? They're not trapped."

"Someone told me that they've 'moved on'... with their families. That they're together, like.. in heaven... do you think that's true?" He looks up, almost hopefully.

Rachel lets out of puff of air, not wanting to disappoint him. "I, um, I go back and forth. I'd like to believe it but I just... I guess I don't."

He shakes his head, "yeah, me either." Once again, he returns to his faithful post at the window.

"Well, I'm going to go to sleep," she begins, "long day... I'm exhausted. Oh, Kurt says he's making your favorite breakfast in the morning. Something to look forward to, huh?"

"Hmmm." Blaine barely responds.

"Goodnight," she says, leaving him a little hesitantly. Blaine watches as the door closes, the room returning to the quietness of before, only barely able to hear Finn and Kurt on the other side of the wall. He finds himself staring at the wooden door, wanting to go out there and join them, but he knows that he shouldn't, not now.

He sits himself back down at the desk, Rachel's words swimming in his mind. T_hey may look like people, but they're definitely not inside there anymore. _Sighing, he drops his head into his hands, while trying to keep the lump from rising in his throat. It doesn't work. With shaky fingers, he then reaches down to lift up the bottom of his jeans, slowly revealing the large bite to his ankle. The skin is painted red and purple, grazed and cut into jagged bumps.

Blaine sits, and he tries not to cry.

* * *

Finn shifts on the hard wooden floor, the same one that caused his couple hours of sleep to be extremely uncomfortable that night, but then again he's slept in worse places. By now, Kurt is awake, too, and the room is silent, other than the man's humming as he stirs their breakfast.

As the morning sun begins to peek into the room, Rachel slowly arouses from her sleep, rubbing at her tired eyes. She pushes off the jacket she'd been sleeping under, and rises to her feet with a couple of stretches. "Morning," she mumbles, earning similar sentiments from the other two. She saunters toward Kurt, "where's Blaine?"

"I let him sleep in," he says, continuing to stir leisurely. Kurt notices how she seems to deflate slightly when hearing that, "well if you want you can go wake him up."

"Okay," Rachel nods, headed into the smaller side room. "Blaine," she knocks, hoping that he's in a better mood this morning. As she slips into the room, closing the door behind her, she notices that Blaine is still asleep, using his backpack as a pillow and his small jacket to cover his body. His legs poke out of the end, pants dragged upwards by the material Rachel frowns when she sees the dark red into the pants leg, not remembering it being there yesterday."Blaine, Kurt said -"

At the sound of her voice, he wakes up groggily, body twisting so that he can look up to her, but Rachel doesn't return it. Her eyes narrow on his leg, before she begins to see the familiar scarring and bruising that looks awfully like a... like a _bite_...

Breath hitching, she snatches for her gun, raising it at the man, whose eyes widen with fear. "Rachel, what the _hell_?" Jumping upwards, he's on his feet in a matter of seconds, looking to her like a deer caught in the headlights.

Her grip on the gun tightens, jaw locking. "Show me your leg," she demands, trying to keep her voice strong, but she can't deny that she's going to be upset if he truly is infected. He doesn't move at first, other than the sight of the tears brimming into his scared eyes, and she clenches her teeth. "_Show me_!"

The volume of her voice alerts both Finn and Kurt that something is wrong and moments later they burst into the room, Kurt's eyes bulging when he sees her with the gun pointed at Blaine. He reaches for his own, aiming it at Rachel, "what the hell are you doing?"

"He's infected," she admits, regretfully, glancing up to Finn to watch his reaction. She doesn't catch the heartache that flashes across Kurt's expression. Finn stands by her side, eyes darkening when he peers toward the man in question, whose silence says it all.

"B-Blaine?" Kurt begins.

His lower lips wobbles dangerously as the tears begin to surface. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so, so... s-sorry."

While Finn gently pulls on Rachel's arm, leading her backwards and away from Blaine, eyes trained on him the entire time. In contrast, Kurt steps toward him, head shaking. "No," he begins, "Blaine, you...y-you _can't_..."

Blaine sucks in a shuddery breath, "in the sewers...there were too many... but I couldn't tell you." He looks to the floor, before dragging his gaze back up to the man he loves, "I'm so scared." His voice cracks, tears staining his cheeks.

"No," Kurt insists again, "you can't leave me, Blaine."

A gun cocks behind them, and they both turn to see _Finn_ holding the gun this time. His whole expression radiates sadness, yet he knows that this has to be done. "Kurt, he's going to turn. We have to - "

He vehemently shakes his head. "I'm _not_ going to kill him!"

"There isn't a choice in this," he argues. "If you want to get to the Fireflies -"

"I'm not going," he cries, "not without Blaine. I can't... do that to him." He glances over to Blaine, devastation contorting his face, "I'd rather die." Rachel goes to counter his words, but Finn hushes her, finally lowering the gun. He knows that he's not going to be able to convince Kurt, not any more. He loves Blaine _too_ much.

His eyes meet Kurt's, as though having a silent conversation, before he sighs. "Rachel, get your backpack."

She frowns. "What? But what about...?"

"Go get it," he persists. She places her gun back in its place, rushing to the other room to retrieve her things, while Finn tries once more, despite knowing the answer already.

"He's going to turn... forget who you are."

Kurt finds his way over to Blaine, hand slipping into the man's and squeezing it tightly in reassurance. Still, it doesn't stop the flow of tears from the both of them. "I _need_ to stay with him," he says, and Finn nods in understanding, just as Rachel returns, looking completely forlorn. That's nothing compared to the fear of the other two, making Finn's heart ache at the sight.

Regretfully, he drops his gaze, unable to look at them as he mumbles. "Goodbye." His instincts are screaming at his to get out of there as quickly as humanly possibly, saving himself and Rachel from yet another victim of this plague, but he lingers for a few moments, wishing that things had turned out differently.

He was just starting to like these two, you know.

Kurt and Blaine echo his sentiments, still clutching their hands together, and he does the same to Rachel, beginning to lead her from the building. She's close to tears herself, casting a glance back to the pair. "I'm sorry," she says, as though there's something that she could do to help, but once someone's bitten, they're a goner. She's the only exception to that. And so she lets Finn pull her down the stairs of the radio tower and outside into the warm morning air.

Only then does she let the tears fall, finding herself tucked against Finn's chest as they walk. For once, he doesn't mind, and only holds her closer, knowing that sometimes you just need a shoulder to cry on.

"I thought things were going to be different this time," she admits to him as they make their hasty exit, headed for the wilderness.

He hesitates, before sighing. "Yeah, me too." He dares a glance backwards, the radio tower hidden behind the thick trees of the forest, and he wonders how long it'll take for Blaine to turn. At least they're safe. Well, from that one threat. Peering around, he's sure that they'll find more lurking, but now more than ever he feels the need to get Rachel safely to the Fireflies. As much as he wants himself okay and alive, he wants that for her, too. When they first met, he couldn't have given two shits if she'd die or not, yet now the thought of it makes his chest heavy and his heart ache.

With Rachel clinging him, Finn's own arms wrapped around her securely, it's safe to say that he's definitely attached to her, and he's sure as hell glad that she _can't_ get infected.

* * *

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	9. The confession

**As always, thank you for your support :)**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

They walk for days, tired and hungry, and both still mourning the recent deaths of their friends. Rachel's taking it harder than he is – people die, it shouldn't be a big deal – but he guesses he's kind of sad, too, even if he tries to suppress it. He thinks that around a week passes, yet he can't be exactly sure. No one can really keep track of the days any more.

"So where do you think we are now?" Rachel asks, peering to him where he sits on a fallen log while she slowly eats away at one of the last cans of beans they have. She'd tried giving some to him, but he'd refused, only allowing a few mouthfuls himself. She needs more strength than him.

"Er, I think we're in Ohio," he admits, purposely forgetting to mention that Ohio is where he's from. Rachel just nods, and sits down next to him. He notes how she looks as though she's going to say something, contemplating it, before deciding to remain silent. It's almost like he can read all her expressions by now, and it's barely been two weeks since he met her – he guesses that spending every minute of every day with the same person kind of forces you to get to know them, all their little quriks and all.

One thing he's learned is that she likes to talk. A lot, and about _anything_. As she opened up out of her shell – forced to with it being just the two of them now – she's grown more talkative with each passing day, filling his silence with tales of her childhood growing up in the zone. If he's being completely honest with himself, he actually enjoys her ramblings. Sure, sometimes he zones out a little, but the constant presence of her voice puts him at ease, reminding him that she's still right by his side, safe as can be.

Another thing is that she's not as tough as she likes to think she is. Oh she's stubborn, yeah, and she's got a bit of an attitude, but sometimes he'll just look at her and see that terrified expression on her face, if only for a moment. It makes him want nothing more than to wrap his arms around her to protect her from all the infected and assholes who want to hurt her.

"And how long is it going to to take us to get to Will's?" she tilts her head.

Finn sighs. "On foot? Maybe a few weeks – I dunno. That's _if_ things go to plan."

Upon hearing this, Rachel frowns, "I wish we still had the car."

"You and me both," he agrees, but then again, a car draws attention, and the last thing they need right now is attention. While Rachel finishes eating, he pulls himself to his feet, worn from a day's worth of walking. His eyes wander down the small street, where only a few houses occupy themselves at the end. Both are large, protected by fences and overgrown shrubs, and from the looks of it no one's been in it yet. Though that leaves another problem – there could still be people _inside_ it.

Drawing a hand over his tired face, he turns back to Rachel, who stands, too. She briefly smiles at him before her eyes are drawn upwards, where the gray clouds begin to let rain slip through, the intensity of it increasing with each passing second. Well, he supposes they're going to have to find some shelter now, so that neither gets ill from the cold.

"C'mon," he says gently, urging her into movement with his hand on the small of her back, "let's try those houses."

"Good," Rachel says, clearly relieved, "I'm _exhausted_. I haven't walked this much in...well – I've _never_ walked this much." Finn feels himself smile absently. "Are you not tired?" she asks, knowing that he always stays awake that little bit longer to make sure things are safe while she sleeps, and then wakes up before she does, for the same reason. And she doesn't even sleep that much.

"I'm tired," he says, "we haven't slept since yesterday morning." He can practically feel his body screaming out for some rest, and for once he's going to listen to it. The pair quickly near the larger of the houses, Finn lifting Rachel upwards against the high brick wall, though it is so large that her fingers just about brush the edge and with a groan she pulls herself upwards. Rachel wiggles her butt as she tries to pull her leg over... not that Finn's looking at her butt or anything.

Soon enough she disappears and he moves to the more obscured gate where Rachel is fumbling with the lock. When she pulls a bobby pin from her back pocket, beginning to pick said lock, he raises an eyebrow curiously, but otherwise stays silent. The lock soon falls to the ground, and his eyes returns to Rachel's proud beam.

They go through the same cycle with the back door, and cautiously step inside. "What should we -" He places his hand over her mouth, effectively silencing her, but Rachel's eyebrows quickly furrow together in annoyance.

He strains his ears, listening for the sign of anything in there with them, but is happy when he hears nothing. Removing his hand from over a slightly miffed Rachel's mouth, he turns his body to face hers, hiding away his gun. "Alright, let's find a room to sleep in, and also look for supplies, okay?" His eyes move her soaked shirt, then to his own. "We should probably get some new clothes – it ain't gonna do either of us favors shivering in these for the next few hours."

Rachel nods, and she takes the downstairs while he slowly climbs the stairs and checks out the bedrooms. The house looks unscathed from the last twenty years of chaos, everything as though it would've been on that fateful day. Finn finds what must be the master bedroom, which contains a new plaid shirt for him, and some slightly oversized jeans, but he'll make do. There's even another change of clothes that he stuffs into his backpack, knowing it'll come in handy. And ten minutes later, he's scoured all four bedrooms, taking anything of use.

"Finn." The sound of Rachel's voice makes his jump, fingers clutching around his gun before he realizes it's only her, giving him a tiny smile from where she stands in the doorway. He doesn't notice that he returns it. "I got some food and there was a first aid kit in the kitchen..." She drops her eyes, teeth chewing at her lower lip, "but in the basement..."

He frowns at her tone of voice, instantly moving over to her. "What? What's wrong?" When at first she doesn't say anything, he hooks his finger under her chin and pulls it upwards so their eyes meet.

"There are bodies," she says sadly, quickly adding, "no infected. But _bodies_ – and a note, saying that he killed them... to save them." Her arms wrap around herself in a hug, "there were children, Finn..."

"Don't get upset," Finn coos softly, "they're not suffering any more – think of it like that, okay?" Though she gives a tiny nod, he can see her wanting to ask more questions. "I found you some clothes... they, er, they should fit, I think." Rachel lets him lead her into the master bedroom, where she moves into the en suite to get changed while he sits on the bed, deep in thought.

"Was your house like this?" Rachel asks curiously through the door, "before the breakout."

He gives a small smile as he remembers his childhood home, trying to ignore any thoughts of his Mom. "Ah, not really. We didn't really have a lot of money – I would've loved to live in a house like this though." He stares around at the décor, as though out of those magazines his Mom used to read when he was a kid.

"What was your house like then?" She's curious, as ever. Over the past week she's asked him non-stop questions about the world before the infection appeared, sounding more interested than anyone he's ever met about a life long gone.

"Oh, it was small – but just big enough for us, you know? And we had this _huge_ backyard, great for playing tag or just the odd game of football with everyone."

"_Tag_?" He hears the incredulous tone to her voice.

"Yeah," Finn's smile grows, "oh, come on, don't tell me you ain't ever played tag."

There's a long pause, before he hears a quiet, "no."

He feels the mood drop a little, deciding to keep his mouth shut before he upsets her again. As he waits, he gently falls backwards onto the comfortable bed, not remembering the last time he sat on something that felt so nice, and he lets out a content sigh. With his eyes closed, he doesn't notice as she ever so quietly opens the door and pads over to the bed, slowly sinking into the crisp white sheets.

As soon as Finn's aware of the movement beside him, he panics, eyes shooting open as he reaches sideways, manoeuvring the other body so that they're pinned underneath him, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it's _Rachel_ and not somebody that wants to hurt either of them. In those seconds, she stares up at him with wide eyes, a little shocked and confused at his actions.

And then she's more so confused when he doesn't make an effort to move, and neither does she. She feels her stomach tighten in ways that she's never experienced before, breath suddenly hitching in her throat when she finds her eyes slowly making their way over his face, somehow halting at his lips.

Just as soon as it appears, the feeling is gone, along with Finn. He makes some sort of grumbling noise, fingers unclenching themselves from her wrists, before he sits back to the side, "what did you do that for? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I thought you were sleeping," she explains, "I didn't want to wake you."

Another grumble follows, much to her annoyance. But she's quickly learned that when Finn goes into his little moods, the best thing she can do is let it pass. Instead, she focuses on how soft the covers feel against her skin, twisting her body so that half of her face is pressed against the plump pillow. She then looks to Finn again, finding him slowly grabbing the other pillow and throwing it to the floor. "What're you doing?" she frowns.

"I'm sleeping here tonight," he says quietly.

"Finn -"

"Pass me that other blanket." She knows that any efforts at convincing him to sleep on the bed with her are wasted, so she does as he says, pouting slightly. He pretends to ignore it as he makes himself comfortable – or as much as he can be – on the floor, backpack faithfully at his side. Rachel doesn't bother hiding her sigh, and places her own backpack on the bedside table. Sitting up, she shrugs off her light pink hoodie that Finn found, leaving her in just her jeans and white tank top.

Then she slides under the covers, suddenly cocooned in warmth as she drags them up to her neck. "Goodnight Finn," she offers a small smile in his direction, eyes peering down to where he's tried to tuck his large body under the decidedly small blanket.

Still, he tilts his head to look back up at her. "Night," he says, reaching over to switch off his flashlight, and the room suddenly plummets into darkness. Rachel stares up at the ceiling, eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness, and she thinks it must be fifteen minutes later when she hears Finn's soft snores – the little sleep he's been having must have finally caught up with him.

She closes her own eyes, but despite feeling tired before she now finds herself wide awake, unable to lull herself into her dreams. Her mind sweeps over everything that's happened in the past couple of weeks, unable to comprehend how so much has occurred in such a short time, and then she finds herself staring down at the sleeping figure of Finn. Her feelings toward him have changed, too – drastically so. At first she thought he was a bit of a dick, she'll be honest, but being thrust into his care has made her realize that, like every one, he just has trouble opening up, yet she knows that she's finally starting to see the real Finn, and each day he becomes brighter and brighter.

_That_ Finn makes her not so scared of the future any more, and she knows with him that she's safe as can be.

Sighing, she wills her body to go to sleep, but she struggles, even with being in the most comfortable bed she's used in her life. All she manages is a dozy state, in which her eyelids feel heavy, as do her limbs.

And in this state she barely even realizes when she slips from under the covers and transfers herself to the floor beside Finn, dragging her pillow and cover down, before she gently places it over the two of them. At the movement, he twitches a little in his sleep, but is too out of it to react, and Rachel tiredly smiles. _Finally_, she can sleep.

* * *

He blinks as the sun streams through the window, striking his eyes with the blinding light. Finn lets out a a tiny groan at being woken up, but he can't deny that his body feels much more well rested than he's felt in a while.

Something moves beside him, and – suddenly alert – he peers down to see Rachel next to him. How did she get there? Strangely enough, he finds that question being the least of his worries as he smiles down at her slumbering form, noting how peaceful she looks when she sleeps. In the back of his mind, he hears the thought, "she's beautiful," suddenly surfacing, his eyes widening. He shouldn't think things like that about her, not when she's so young. _Especially_ when she's so young.

He lifts himself to his feet, tearing his eyes away from her before he moves over to her backpack, where most of their food is. Just at the idea of food, his stomach grumbles loudly, and he quickly opens one of the cans of peaches, not having eaten much since the day before yesterday – all the food they've had he's given to Rachel. Once he's got the can open, he practically inhales the sweet fruit, not even close to feeling full when each slice is gone, leaving only the juice left. He's just about to gulp it down when he hears Rachel tiredly mumble his name.

"Hi," he says quietly, watching her slowly sit up, a hand running through her tangled hair.

"Morning," she gives a small smile, eyes moving down to the can in his hands. He suddenly grows a guilty expression, and she knows what that means. "Don't worry," she shakes her head, "I ate last night." Still, she can't help the way her stomach rumbles with hunger. Finn gently holds out the can with the last bit of juice, which she gratefully takes and drinks down in a matter of seconds, savoring the last thing she'll probably consume until that night.

Ten minutes later and they're slowly stepping out of their temporary safe house, both filled with a new amount of trepidation for the oncoming day. It starts just as always, the pair walking in silence. After they've just woken up, neither are really too talkative, but by afternoon Rachel's going on about her first memorable encounter with the infected, and somehow – though he doesn't remember _exactly_ when – his arm finds its way comfortingly around her shoulder as she does so.

They hit a large town not long after that, with the sun blazing down on the pair, so hot that Rachel's again opted out of the hoodie and is just wearing the form fitting tank top. If his eyes wander southwards, she doesn't realize.

"How do you know that we're going the right way?" she suddenly asks as they walk through the deserted town, Finn ever wary of any infected that might be lingering around.

"I just know," he shrugs.

She frowns, "you just... _know_? Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"Look, I've been to a lot of places in my time. Don't you trust me?" He doesn't know what her sudden silence means, and that worries him.

Rachel walks with her arms tightly across her chest and her eyes downcast. "You never talk about your past," she then mumbles, to which he gives an obvious eye roll, mouth poised to speak before she stops him, "only when I directly ask you. And even then you only answer things about _before_ the outbreak..."

"Rach," he breathes softly.

"No, I've told you so much about me already -"

"I didn't ask you to, did I?" he retorts; most of her stories are voluntary.

Hurt flashes across her face, before it's disguised under narrowed eyes and a pointed expression. "Finn, if we're going to be with each other for the next few weeks, I think I deserve to know." She watches as he tears his gaze from hers, forcing it downwards toward the cracked asphalt. "Is it that bad?" Her brows knot together, Rachel remembering something that Bill had said about Finn, though the man had quickly dismissed it,

Heaving in a breath, he simply nods.

"Oh Finn."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it," he snaps, eyes closing shut for only a moment. He clenches his fists together, then tries to force that angry feeling from his body, unsuccessfully. "And anyway, sharing so much is a bad idea, because then we'll become too invested in each other, and if – if something happens to one of us, then it's just going to be harder to deal with."

Rachel frowns deeply, not having any idea where his sudden theory came from. "That's not true," she insists.

He scoffs. "Yeah? Look at Kurt and Blaine, Rach. Kurt died because he was in love with Blaine – sometimes emotions are just as deadly as the infection itself."

"You're being ridiculous," she tries again.

"I'm being realistic."

"So what? You just expect us to spend the next few weeks in silence?" He gives a noise close to a grunt in response. "Well, what the fuck else are we supposed to talk about? If not ourselves." Another grunt. "And don't worry, Finn because if you get infected, I sure as hell don't feel the way that Kurt did about Blaine, so you can be safe in the knowledge that I won't be dying for you any time soon."

With that, she storms forward, not wanting to look at Finn right now, especially when he's being so stubborn. She knows why he's doing it, but that still doesn't excuse him, and maybe he'll be able to admit that he cares for her, in exactly the same way that she does for him. She knows it – she can see it in his eyes. Rachel can hear him calling her name, both seemingly forgetting that they ought to stay quiet right now.

"Don't be like that, Rach!" he says, trying to ignore how her words affected him. But he's right, isn't he? Caring about people has only brought him one thing, and that's heartbreak. And okay, Rachel's immune, but that doesn't mean there aren't other threats out there – they've already experienced one of them in the form of the hunters. "Come on, where are you going?"

She doesn't have an answer to that, but she perseveres. She's surprisingly fast for such a small person, though he uses his long strides to catch up with her, trying to pull her back by her arm. "Screw you, Finn," she shrugs his hand away.

"Why the fuck are you so angry?" he growls, "look, getting attached to each other is just going to get us killed faster. I know it, and you know it, so why are you getting so pissed at me for telling you the fucking truth?"

Rachel skids to a halt, eyes ablaze. "I'm angry Finn, because we both know that this conversation is a little fucking late, isn't it?" Her words are practically screamed in his face, "because I started getting attached to you the moment that I had to trust my life with you, even though I was scared and I didn't know who the hell you were." Then her finger pokes at his chest, "and _you_ felt the same when you were suddenly thrust upon with someone that you promised you'd take care of." She stares at his with annoyance, forcing herself to take calming breaths, "if you didn't want us to feel this way, then why did you agree to take me to the Fireflies in the first place?"

There are too many words to take in at once, Finn blinking as he attempts to organize his thoughts, but Rachel isn't finished yet. "And if you didn't care about me, then why would I still be here? Or why did you jump off that bridge after me? If you don't feel that way, then _please_ – stop acting like you do."

And then there's silence. She stares toward him with her tear-filled eyes, not knowing what's going to happen now or what Finn's going to say, but only knowing that she feels a certain way about Finn, and she's almost positive that he reciprocates that.

She looks to him expectantly, "well?"

"Fine," he admits, throwing his hands up in the air. "I care about you – is that what you want to hear? I care for you, Rachel, and I'm absolutely fucking terrified that something might happen to you."

Rachel feels her breath hitch in her throat, not fully having expected him to confess to her suspicions, and though she feels relief – because now it's mutual, it's not just her – she's also still so angry at him.

"Then why did you say those things?"

"Because..." he starts, words cut short by a sudden attack of emotions, which cause a lump to crawl up his throat and his expression to fall. "Because I've done some fucked up things in my life... and I don't want you to think any less of me because of them."

Finally rendered silent, she just stares at him. She doesn't know what to say, what to feel. Nobody can have an easy past, surely, and especially not when the outbreak started (not that she has the personal experience, but all the stories she's heard are scary). But Finn's can't be worse than anyone else's, can it?

But before she can dwell on it any further, an inhuman screech calls out, fear flooding into both of their systems as they frantically search for the source. Finn sees the infected first, rushing out from one of the stores down the street, and he doesn't hesitate in taking Rachel's hand to lead her away from it. Its calls set off a domino effect, and suddenly there are more, no doubt beckoned by Finn and Rachel's screaming match.

He pulls her arm so hard that she's sure he's going to pull it out of the socket, but a force knocks her off her feet and she panics when she can't feel his hand any more. The infected that had surprised them pins Rachel to the ground, hand that isn't holding down her wrist trying to claw at her skin. "Finn!" she screams desperately, turning her head to see where he'd ended up sprawled over the floor. "_Finn, help me_!" With each second, her desperation grows while her strength declines. And it's taking everything she has to keep the infected mere inches from her face.

But then there are more – more than she can count – all surrounding her with a sea of growling and flashes of blood red. She screams at the top of her lungs.

The _bang_ of Finn's gun is heard the second she stops screaming, and she watches as the infected flies off of her, but she's not safe yet; more take its place, the weight of them keeping her glued to the hard floor, while she kicks and punches her arms uselessly. His gun goes off again, and again. And she thinks that maybe it's going to be okay, but one manages to hit her in the jaw, the punch momentarily disorienting Rachel, which is just enough time for it to sink its teeth into her arm.

A painful howl escapes her small, battered body, and when Finn realizes exactly what's happening, he sees red, shooting the infected dead before it can deepen the bite. He then kicks another in the face, sending a bullet straight to the forehead. This gives him just enough time to pick up a sobbing Rachel from the floor, pushing her inside the nearest building while simultaneously shooting. He can't ignore the pounding of his heart, or the sheer panic pumping around his body.

He manages to get the door closed, only a few infected on the other side, before he leads Rachel through the store, the adrenaline carrying their feet forward. "Fuck," he keeps mumbling to himself, especially when he sees the fresh blood dripping down.

They run and they run, until their legs burn with the effort, and until he has to stop because he can't breathe, not one bit. Finn and Rachel take temporary protection in one of the storerooms, where there are no sign of infected, and he barricades the door before finally turning to her. Her petrified expression tugs at his heart and he has no control over his words. "See," he says in a more of a quiver than anything else, "this is what happen when you care about people... they get hurt."

"But I'm not... I'm immune," she begins, shaking her head, "I'll be fine, right?"

Finn feels himself drop to his knees so that they're the same height as she sits on some crates. He takes over from her hands, cradling the wound on her upper arm. "I don't know," he admits. She should be, he tries to tell himself. But he's not an expert on this. Hell, he knows hardly anything about how the infection works. And they don't even know why _she's_ immune in the first place. It might not be the same with this bite – she might not be so lucky.

She closes her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm scared."

"Yeah," he agrees, "me too." He inches ever closer to her, "are you in pain?"

"A little," she nods, and Finn's almost sure that she's lying, because her face keeps wincing. He reaches into his backpack, quickly pulling out a bandage, slowly soaking it in alcohol. He wants to whisper to her and soothe her, to just tell her that it's going to be okay, but his words fail him, and he silently begins to wrap the wound in the bandage, watching as the blood is instantly soaked up. Rachel hisses in pain, her fingers tightening around his arm that he hadn't realized she was holding.


	10. The relief

**Thank you for all the reviews :) And to Lucy for beta'ing, as usual.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Hours pass, so painfully slowly that he's sure the anticipation will kill him. By now, Rachel's quiet, and she leans her head back against the cold wall, eyes closed. In the still silence, he can hear her steady breaths. They reassure him into a calm mood, one where he remains cautiously optimistic, despite the fact that usually he's as skeptical as one can be.

Hell, even a couple of weeks ago he would've given up all hope, yet in this instance he is unable to even consider the worst because he _does_ care about her, even if she only knows because of the dumb fight they had, the very fight which is the reason that she's hurt right now. He wants to kick himself for being so stupid, because after twenty years of living in this world, he _should know better. _And in a matter of minutes, he let his guard down just so that he and Rachel could fight about their _feelings_ of all things.

It often feels like such an unnatural thing for him to deal with, despite the fact that he's very aware just how natural feelings are, how inexplicable they are, too. But he's spent too long learning to ignore those emotions, because they don't matter when you're trying to run away from a hoard of infected, or when you're held at gunpoint by a pack of people who want you dead.

"Finn?" Rachel's quiet voice breaks the silence that they've held for too long. "What are we going to do?"

He heaves in a sigh, and then drags his body to where she's sitting. "Scoot," he tells her, watching as she moves further to the side of the crate so that he can sit beside her. With light and grazing touches, he pulls down the red stained bandage so that he can see the bite again. Finn's heart drops at the sight of the torn flesh once more, the surrounding skin still red as her body tries to heal itself. He moves closer, finding some water from his bag.

"I can do that," she whispers, trying to ignore the shivers that run up and down her spine every time his fingers brush across her skin in a barely there caress.

"No, let me," he insists. He needs to be in control right now, she realizes, and so she lowers her hand and allows Finn to clean the bite. "It looks like your other bite," he begins hopefully, "most of it is healing by now and... it doesn't look like it's – you know." She feels herself nodding, peering down to the wound. It doesn't look as far progressed as Santana's had, and Rachel was bit hours ago. By logic, it should look worse at this point.

She breathes a sigh of relief, "so I'll be okay?"

"Well, I sure hope so," he replies with a smile, fingers giving her arm a comforting squeeze before he's on his feet again, eyes moving to the barricade of crates and shelves. "We should get out of here."

"But what if the infected are still there?" she questions, suddenly behind him. As he turns, he finds her gently binding her arm once more, to give the wound time to heal, as much as it can.

At her question, he suddenly feels worried again. They might still be out there, and this time there may be more. "Maybe there's another way out of here," he suggests, gaze roaming the room. And finally a bit of luck comes their way when he notices the grate in front of a ventilation shaft. Grabbing one of the crates, he shoves it up against the wall, climbing atop the wood so he can get a better look. "This'll lead us out." He announces with certainty. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he manages to tug off the grate, straining his muscles slightly.

Once off, he peers inside, and the crate creaks under the new weight of Rachel as she is suddenly beside him, having to stand on her tiptoes to look inside. He tries not to laugh, but he can't help the few chuckles that escape his lips. "What?" she frowns as she looks his way.

"I never noticed how tiny you are," he suddenly grins, finding it more amusing than he should.

Rachel narrows her eyes, yet the way her lips twitch with the urge to smile give her away, and all she does is playfully nudge his side, mumbling, "shut up." She then looks to him expectantly, "you gonna lift me up or what?" She then adds, "since I'm too small to get up there myself," with a pointed look.

"Hey," he starts with a smirk, at the same time creating a platform with his hands for her to climb on, "I didn't say there's anything wrong with being small. I just didn't realize it before. And it's kind of funny, since I'm so tall and you're... well, you're not."

She steadies her hands on her shoulders as she makes her way into the vent first, which is large enough to fit her slim body easily. Turning, she reaches out a hand for Finn to take, despite the fact that he can easily pull himself into the vent beside her. With the two of them together, it's a bit of a tight squeeze, and Rachel moves in front.

"Which way?" she peers back at him.

"I can't see. Your butt's in the way," he smirks.

"Hey!"

"Just go straight for now," Finn quickly reprimands. "We'll see where this takes us." With a small nod, she begins to shuffle through the vent quickly and Finn keeps up, his eyes intent ahead, though it's rather dark within, both having to strain to see. But they go on, trudging through the passageway without speaking, as each are so focused on just escaping.

She suddenly stops, "left or right?" Finn finds himself trying to map out what small parts of the building complex he'd seen while running in here.

"Uh, try left." Rachel does so, and once again he follows, hoping that the sound of them moving within the metal doesn't alert anyone, or any_thing_, as to their whereabouts. Guilt once more takes over his body when he thinks about her bite, and he can't help but feel responsible.

Soon enough, they spy a light, quite literally, at the end of the tunnel. Moving forward with caution, he tries to look over Rachel's shoulder to inspect the exit, which appears to lead into another room. She fiddles with the grate, giving small grunt of annoyance. "I can't get the stupid this thing open." He squeezes in next to her, their bodies flush against one another in the small vent, and peers around for the sign of any infected. Thankfully, it's clear.

He tries moving the grate himself, wincing at every rattle of the metal. With one solid push, it falls to the floor in a clatter, "c'mon, quick." He shuffles out of there first, eyes vigilantly glancing around the empty store. When she's not fast enough for him, he takes hold of her waist on either side, pulling her from the vent where he sets the girl onto her feet.

"I wasn't going that slow," she mumbles, though blushes when she feels Finn's hands linger on her hips that little bit longer than necessary. But she's quickly distracted as she hears noise that isn't coming from Finn, and her blood runs cold. Not again. She's barely recovered from the last hoard they encountered.

Finn doesn't even look to see if they've spotted them; he only takes hold of her unresisting hand and runs with every last ounce of strength that he can muster. The only thing running through his mind is that he needs to get Rachel to safety – that's all that matters to him. She keeps up with him, swiveling her head around to look for the infected that they'd just heard. She sees nothing, which is probably more terrifying. She'd rather she could see them, so that she knows where to avoid.

Heart racing, she lets Finn lead her from the building and into the cold outside air. They keep running, this time to get as far away from this place as possible, seeing as this little town has brought nothing but fear and worry. Finn spies some wooded area, angling their run for that direction, where he's sure they can remain hidden for a while. It's his turn to throw a glance over his shoulder, spying a few infected on their tail, though not close enough to cause worry. Still, he clings onto his gun just in case.

He's relieved as they seek refuge within the thick trees, weaving in and out of the tangled foliage. "You think we lost 'em?" he asks as they fall deeper within the forest, and the infected can no longer be heard.

"Maybe," she whispers, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through her system. She gives a paranoid look the way they've just come from, seeing nothing but thick bushes and intertwining trees.

"How you feelin'?" Finn then asks as they slip into a calmer walk, neither realizing that their hands are still joined. "Your arm -"

She shakes her head, not wanting Finn to worry. "I'm fine. It barely even hurts anymore." Though he doesn't look convinced, he accepts her response and looks forward once more. She looks over his heaving chest and paled face, "what about you?"

Finn shrugs, "don't worry about me."

"But I _do_," she admits, almost wishing that she hadn't said it by the shock that spreads over his face. Then it disappears as a smile melts onto his face. "Now come on, we've been set back a few hours today – we should make it up before it gets to night."

With a sigh, she nods her head, despite being tired after the emotionally draining day. All she wants is to curl up next to Finn and go to sleep, but he's insistent on catching up on lost time.

So for the next few hours they quickly venture into deeper into the forest, a comfortable silence falling over the pair. She finds herself sending glances his way, just wanting to watch him. She doesn't understand _why_ exactly, but Rachel can't help herself. Her eyes are drawn upwards toward Finn through no conscious thought of her own, and each time she catches herself smiling. Finn really is handsome, even after all these years of barely struggling to survive. Of course, he's scarred with time, his skin aged, his eyes sometimes looking haunted by his past, but then he'll smile toward her, and all she sees is the brightness to his expression and the small dimples growing in his cheeks.

Finn turns, catching her practically staring, to which she shoots her gaze downwards, the smallest of blushes tinting her cheeks. He doesn't say anything. Instead, a small, barely audible chuckle leaves his lips, his own gaze then lifting to the darkening sky. Switching on his flashlight, he watches as the path ahead is suddenly flooded with light.

An hour more of walking and both are feeling the ache of the long day. But they're practically in the middle of nowhere, with no buildings in sight. "We can't sleep out in the open," Rachel frets, knowing that's the best way to get killed. Despite her tiredness, she helps Finn to find a temporary shelter for the night, which turns out to be some creepy, eerie cave. She stands at its mouth as Finn starts a fire going.

"Are we really going to sleep in here?" she asks, scuffing her foot against the floor, before she peers up to Finn.

"Rach, we're both tired and we don't have anywhere else to go. Now get in." Rachel reluctantly follows his orders, sitting herself beside him on the floor. She shrugs off her backpack and then her jacket, starting to inspect her bite. Finn stops what he's doing to look, too, watching her movements slowly.

With the bandage off, they both peer to the wound, which is no longer bleeding, nor is it sore. "Looks like you're going to be fine," he smiles, unable to keep the relief from his voice.

She smiles in return. Inclining her head downwards, she peers into the flickering flames, asking in a quiet voice, "why do you think I'm immune?"

Finn frowns, not really knowing how to answer that question. He's not exactly an expert on the infection – of course everyone knows some things about it, such as how it grows on the brain, and how long it takes a person to turn, but all the real science is known to very few, most of which are with the Fireflies. That's why they need to find them, so that they can figure out why she's immune and use that to produce a cure.

"I, er, I don't really know," he begins, leaning to the side. This brings their bodies closer within the cold walls of the cave, and Rachel twists her own body to face him. She seems a little deflated by his answer, but he's not exactly sure what she was expecting. "I guess," he states, "you're just special."

She gives an unsure look. "_Special_?" she frowns. No one's ever described her as special before.

"Yeah." An infectious grin grows on his lips, "one of a kind." She feels a warmth spreading through her body from the way he looks at her, and that set of unfamiliar feelings, just like back at the house yesterday. She doesn't bother trying to figure out what they mean, and instead focuses on Finn. "And let's not think about the whys or hows, and just be thankful that you are immune, you know?"

"I guess it'll save a lot of people's lives," she says.

"Well, there's that," he nods, "but I was thinking more about how happy I am that you're still alive." Her heart swells, Rachel feeling that Finn does truly care for her. She doesn't say anything in response, though she does find herself shifting closer to him. "You hungry?" he asks, the emptiness in his own stomach begin to make its presence known.

Rachel nods, reaching for her backpack with all the food in. "We've got tomato soup, beans, sweetcorn, peaches -"

"I think soup is good," he gently takes the can from her unresisting hands, "you want me to warm it up?" When she nods once more, he opens the can and pushes it nearer the fire, though not too close. Rachel finds the flask of water from the bottom of her bag, taking thirsty gulps, and letting it replenish her body, before she passes it to Finn, who does pretty much the same.

She then pulls out her brush from her bag, untying her hair and gently combing through the thick locks. Finn watches as she brushes out all the tangles and knots, before beginning to braid her hair. When she's done, her brunette locks in one braid down her back, he smiles, "it looks nice."

Her fingers gently run over her hair, "thanks." After that, she shuffles back to him again, sitting with her legs stretched out, while he crosses his.

"God, I'm so exhausted," he says, leaning back against the hard, jagged wall.

"I know," she sighs, "I think you're gonna have to carry me all the way to Wyoming."

He gently shoves her, "no way." She may not exactly weigh that much, but she certainly can't convince him to do that. Finn turns his attention to the soup, which is starting to bubble away. Using some spare material to shield his hand from the hot can, he picks it up and brings it between them, "dinner is served."

Rachel finds the only spoon they have from her backpack, hungrily taking a spoonful of the warm, creamy soon. She smiles, making a noise of appreciation. Dipping the spoon in again, she lifts it to Finn's lips. "Hey, I can feed myself," he insists.

"Finn," she begins, almost sternly – so much that he finds himself complying and opening his mouth for her. Ever so gently, she places the spoon between his lips, where he hungrily eats the soup.

"That is good," he smiles, shifting closer so that their shoulders brush and his body lingers over hers. They continue to eat like that, each taking turns for their spoonful until the spoon scrapes at the bottom of the empty can and their hunger is less demanding now. Still, "I want to open another one," he laughs.

She nods, forehead scrunching together briefly, "me too. But we can't, Finn. We need to eat tomorrow, and then the day after that..."

With a grumbling noise, he lifts his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He watches as she puts away the rest of the cans, zipping up her backpack again, before twisting back to Finn. "Oh, you've got a little something there..." she points to her lip to show him, smiling when he goes to wipe the wrong side. "No, other side." She inches closer, "c'mere." Her thumb wipes away the remaining soup from his lips, brushing against his soft skin. Rachel's eyes drift over his lips, and then upwards to his eyes, which reflect the glow of the fire beside them. Suddenly, she struggles to catch her breath, pulling back from Finn as though his skin burnt her. Confusion sweeps over the girl, and she leans further into the cold wall, as opposed to Finn's warm body.

He blinks, murmuring out a quiet, "thank you," before he too changes position.

Moments later, Rachel nervously asks. "Did you mean what you said before?" In order to not have to look toward Finn, she plays with her shoelaces, "when you said that you cared about me?"

A sigh escapes him, though it's mainly because he isn't exactly sure what he feels toward her. It's confusing and pretty new to him, and he isn't really ready to put said feelings into words. But he tries, for Rachel. "I did mean it, Rach. I mean, at first I didn't really like you, but over these past few weeks... I don't know – it just sort of _happened_." She peers his way, a smile fighting its way onto her lips. "And I know it's stupid, but I feel really protective of you and I just want to hide you away from the rest of the world until we find the Fireflies and you're safe." Finn watches carefully for her reaction, feeling a little sick – he's not used to just laying out his feelings like this.

Her eyes suddenly become clouded with fear, her smile fading away.

"Promise you'll never leave me," she demands.

"What?" He exclaims, though more from surprise at her abruptness rather than anything else.

"You heard me," Rachel says, moving so that she's sat on her knees, "I don't want to lose you, Finn. You're the only person that's stuck with me this long. And all those things you feel – I feel them, too. Just, _please_, promise me that you'll stay." She tries to keep the desperation from her tone, but it manages to creep in anyway.

Finn clasps his larger fingers around hers, eyes completely genuine as he says. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He sends her a smile, "you're stuck with me now." Before he can even blink, she's suddenly in his arms, her own small ones just about wrapping around his torso.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she admits softly, resting her head against his shoulder. Once over the shock of the hug, his muscles relax, arm slipping around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She somehow ends up sat half on half off his lap, their legs stretched out toward the fire together.

She smiles at the feeling of Finn's arm around her, holding her securely against his body, and she barely realizes as her own hands fall over his. Her eyes soon begin to droop with tiredness, her comfortable position easing her into a sleepy state. When she hears a rustle outside, however, her head tilts to the side to see better. Finn quickly puts her worries to rest. "It's just animals," he whispers, "now get some sleep."

Rachel hums in response, quickly letting her body drift off to sleep, while Finn keeps watch, his hold of Rachel never weakening for the next hour before he succumbs to his tiredness, too.

* * *

"**_Finn_**!"

The terrified call strikes fear right through his heart, and his eyes shoot open just as hands roughly grab at him. "Rachel!" he shouts when he sees two men holding the struggling girl in their grip. He tries to dive out of his own captors, but all it earns is a punch to the stomach, sending his insides reeling. With a groan, he croaks out her name once more.

His eyes scan the scene fully, the confusion making it harder to realize how they've ended up in this situation. Last night they were safe, and now they're in the hands of someone else again.

"Well, what do we have here?" one of the men begins, "looks like you're lost, huh?" he circles the pair, a sneer growing on his pale lips. "Check their bags and take whatever's useful." Again, they fight with all they've got as the backpacks are snatched from them, but Finn is still winded from the punch and Rachel finds herself surrounded by men who are both larger and stronger than her. Together, it's a force too strong.

Still, it doesn't stop her from vocalizing her distress. "Get the fuck off me," she growls, shaking her body from side to side in a fruitless attempt to get free.

All it earns is laughter from the men, who are more focused in what things they have rather than them. The pair watch angrily as all their food is taken, and then the men set on looking through their weapons. While Finn's relieved that they don't seem to want to physically hurt them, he can feel his hopes disappearing when most of their things are strewn out over the floor, and their food is slowly being put into the men's own backpacks.

Finn knows not to antagonize them, seeing as they clearly have the upper hand here, outnumbering them five to two, but Rachel can't stop herself from shouting profanities their way, while he sends warning glares _her_ way. She's just going to make things worse, and right now they're not exactly in the position for that to happen.

The leader steps forward, taking hold of her chin tightly. "You're a little mouthy, aren't you?" he smirks.

Just as the sight of him with his hand on her, Finn feels his blood boiling, and he finally resists more than he was. "Let go of her!" He growls, eyes darkening. He should be trying to rationalize a plan, but the only thing he can focus on is Rachel. Finn knows that he needs to get them out of this, and he needs to do it quickly.

The man peers between the pair, raising an eyebrow curiously, "I think someone's a little jealous." He suddenly grins, releasing his hold of her chin to draw his touch delicately down her shoulders and then to the zipper of her hoodie. Dragging it down, his eyes glint devilishly when Finn's jaw locks. "What? You don't want to share?"

"Don't touch her," he warns, "don't you fucking touch her." Once again, he's hit by one of the men, knocking him to the floor. The other places his foot on Finn's back, keeping him to the hard ground, before protests from Rachel cause him to peer up again.

As the leader stands inches from her, his hands headed for her jeans. He pops open the button, sending Finn a smirk as he begins tugging down the zipper, despite all of her struggles. She flails her body as much as she can, feeling sick when his fingers graze over the bare skin of her hips. "I'm going to enjoy this," he whispers to her, hot breath burning her skin. Rachel sees her chance, throwing her head back and then connecting it with his seconds later.

"_Ah_!" he stumbles backwards, holding his wounded head, "you _bitch_." Despite being disoriented, she manages to snatch her arm from the hands gripping it painfully, throwing her elbow into the man's face behind her. The others that were keeping Finn down move to aid their friends, which allows him the chance to free himself, reaching for his gun that's carelessly left on the ground. He rolls onto his back, shooting two down in an instant, and then he turns his attention to the others moving in on Rachel.

Heart racing, he jumps to his feet and dives for the leader, who cries out as Finn's fist adds another blow to his face. "You _bastard_," he growls, the anger surging through his fists and being thrown into each hit. He was going to hurt Rachel, so now Finn's going to hurt him.

He feels hands on his shoulders, flinching back, until he hears Rachel's voice. "Finn, _stop_!" Freezing in his actions, he stares down at the bloodied face he's just hit, and notes that the man isn't moving. Finn tries to catch his breath, peering around to see the bodies lay around them. Twisting his neck, he looks up to Rachel, who is trying to hold back her tears.

Finn's on his feet in a second, hands reaching out for her. That's not the first time he's experienced bandits, but it's the first time that he's been caught so off guard by them. How long had they been tracking Finn and Rachel? Or did they just find them there that morning? He glances around, feeling paranoid that there are more lingering about.

"Can we go?" she asks in a voice close to a whimper. That sounds like a good idea to him.

He leans down, throwing their things haphazardly back into their bags, and when he looks back at Rachel she's zipping up her jeans and hoodie. The rage that flows through him is overwhelming – how could they even _think_ of doing that to her? For a moment, his eyes close, trying to keep his temper at bay. What if they'd actually done it? What if they'd made him watch as they hurt her? Sickness sweeps over his whole body.

Finn slowly stands, handing over her backpack. While her eyes looks to him for comfort, he can barely glance at her for a few seconds without his mind plaguing back to those awful thoughts.

When he finally does look at her, he's dismayed to see blood pooling on her upper lip. Concern sweeps over Finn, and he moves closer to see her split lip. She bows her head, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand, "I'm fine. One of them took a punch at me, but that was it." Her eyes wander to where the bodies lay, "I hit him harder, anyway."

Despite himself, he lets out a shaky laugh, "yeah, you did." His arms slide around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. She's unusually quiet as he does this, her head nuzzled against his chest. "Let's get the hell out of here," he gently says, shrugging on his bag and then reaching out a hand for Rachel to take. She does, leading him from the cave with an eagerness to forget about the bandits, and she certainly hopes that they don't run into any more.

Still shaky, she keeps her gaze solely ahead. She wants to speak, to break the uncomfortable silence that lingers around them, but all words catch in her throat and she's rendered silent. Finn is tense, angry – she knows that he hates feeling helpless, and he almost had to watch those men... She can barely bring herself to think it, knowing full well their intentions, which cause her whole body to shudder.

Finn notices this, silently bringing her body closer to his own with a tug of her hand.

"Who were those men?" she finally asks.

His teeth clench together tightly. "Bandits. And just basically fucking assholes." Rachel finds herself nodding in agreement.

She notes how Finn still looks angrier than she's ever seen him, even the hand holding hers is tense. "What's wrong?" she asks. Well, she knows that he's still upset over being caught off guard, but she doesn't understand why it's had such a big effect on him.

"Hmm, it's nothing."

"Finn," she quietly begins.

"They were going to hurt you." Finn mumbles, and he just _can't_ look at her again. If he does, then it'll be all he can think about – saying it out loud is bad enough.

Silent for a few moments, she eventually says, "but they didn't."

"But they _almost_ did."

Rachel lets out a long sigh, face suddenly tired and sad, "Finn, it's okay. Nothing happened – I stopped them, and besides, it's not like it's the first time it's happened." His head snaps her way, annoyance registering on his expression, "and _each time_ I've taken care of myself."

He clenches his free fist, before lowly getting out. "You shouldn't have to. I should have been there to help."

"You _were_," she insists.

"No, I wasn't." Finn hangs his head, "and I just wouldn't know what to do if they hurt you like that… a-and if I had to see it. Rach, I'm so sorry." She lifts her gaze, completely overwhelmed by the amount of sadness filling his voice. He looks _so_ upset.

She doesn't know what possesses her at that moment, or why she thinks it's a good idea, but she's suddenly standing on her tiptoes, lips grazing against his cheek. She lingers there, ever so briefly, eyes closing. "Finn, listen to me," she whispers when he seems to calm considerably from her action, "I'm fine, and you're fine – that's all that matters, okay?"

Though he still looks bothered by his thoughts, he nods along with her. "Okay."

"Good," she lowers herself to her normal height, "now let's hurry up." She's still shaken, and she should be more so than Finn, but like she said – it isn't the first time. Men are men; she's learned exactly what they want from people like her in her short time. Finn's got to know it, too. But he's still having a hard time dealing with the fact that, for once, he was powerless to protect her. Her hand squeezes his, knowing how difficult it must have felt for the man who strives to be in control as much as this world allows him.

She pulls him into a slow walk again, knowing that he's not okay, not right now. Is anyone really ever okay? His fingers cling onto hers that little bit tighter, and for that, she's glad.

* * *

**I feel like the finchel relationship is a little show, so sorry if you wanted to see if progress quickly. I just feel like it needs to be this way!**

**Please review :)**


	11. The heist

**Thank you again for all the reviews, favourites and subscriptions! :) I hope you're all enjoying reading this fic just as much as I am writing it!**

**Once again, thank you to Lucy for beta'ing!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rachel slowly bends over the shallow river, a miserable frown plastered on her face as she uses the icy cold water to clean her clothes as best she can. When relatively pleased with her efforts, she stands and hangs her jeans over the tree branch next to her underwear. She dries her hands on Finn's shirt, which drowns her skinny body – she supposes that's a good thing, seeing as the only other clothes she has on is her bra.

She hopes that Finn isn't too long, being alone is making her feel paranoid. Though, at the same time, a small blush tints her cheeks when she thinks of that morning. It'd been awkward – _really_ awkward - and that saddled with the fact that she was extremely uncomfortable didn't exactly makes things easier. As soon as she'd told him that she'd got her period, her resourceful, efficient Finn had turned into a stuttering mess – all the while she stood there staring at the ground and wishing that they weren't having that conversation.

They'd found a river for her to clean herself, while Finn choked something about her staying there as he goes and gets her "girl things". She'd just given him a look, before biting her lip and nodding.

Seconds later he'd walked back to her, beginning to root through his bag while a confused Rachel stared on. He'd then handed over his spare gray shirt, eyes meeting hers for a mere couple of seconds before he awkwardly cleared his throat and found the ground suddenly interesting once more, "for you to change into." She'd taken it shyly, not remembering the last time she'd felt like that around Finn.

It'd been a relief when he'd left and it was just her, meaning that they didn't have to endure any embarrassing moments as she got into some fresh, new clothes and cleaned her old ones.

She stares through the gaps in the trees at which he had walked through hours ago, leaving her completely alone. More wary than usual, she keeps her gun right beside where she stands. But so far, all she's seen is a couple of rabbits, and they haven't ran into any other people for days – she's safe for now.

Rachel's thankful for the warm weather, though she knows that it won't last. It must be late fall by now, and winter will be settling in soon enough; she sure hopes that they find the Fireflies before then. Travelling cross country in deep snow doesn't exactly sound appealing. Well, right now anything doesn't sound appealing. She sits, trying to put pressure on the dull ache in the lower half of her body, but it's fruitless - the pain persists.

An hour later and she turns at the sound of footsteps, her frown fading into a smile when she sees Finn. His pace quickens slightly as he sees her looking, and in a matter of seconds he's by her side. He looks at her drying clothes, then to her clad in the shirt, "I got you some, er… you know." She blushes again. She's had periods before, but she's never really spoken about it with anyone other than Quinn, and Finn's… well, he's a _guy _for one. He doesn't have to deal with this – by the look on his face he's just as embarrassed as her.

She nervously wrings her hands together before taking the outstretched box of tampons from Finn, not wanting to know what he had to do in order to get them. He avoids her eyes; apparently he doesn't want to tell her either.

"Can you…" she begins.

Ever so silently, he turns away from her, squinting his eyes closed, too. It feels like hours later when she tells him that she's finished and he can look again. Rachel shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, before her eyes dart to her still wet clothes. Looks like they're going to stay put for a while, seeing as they can't carry on with her wearing practically just a shirt. For a moment, she catches Finn's eyes intent on her toned legs, but quickly averts in another direction. He's really got to stop doing that.

"How're you feeling?" he instead questions, "it doesn't hurt, does it?"

She lifts her gaze in surprise at the utter amount of care to his tone. This is the same man that could kill another in the blink of the eye, and yet he's peering to her so innocently, wanting to know if she's in pain or not. When he doesn't have his tough bravado, he really is the sweetest man she's ever met.

Rachel shrugs, "I'll be fine. I've done this before so…"

"Right, yeah," he nods, "of course you have." He then drops himself onto a fallen log, eyes watching as the river weaves through the trees.

She joins him, though is cautious to leave a small gap of space between the two, "so did you find out where we are?" It's been a couple of weeks now since they left Ohio, and while he's sure he knows which direction they're headed in, they've still been wondering exactly what their exact location is

"Uh, Illinois," he responds, "I saw a couple signs in the town. It's this place called Bismarck." She nods along with him, the names of the little towns not really meaning much to her – all she wants to know is how close to Wyoming they are, and how much more walking they're going to have to do. Her aching feet need a rest from all this never ending travelling. Finn watches her expression carefully, knowing what she's thinking, "it could be a few more weeks before we get to Will's."

"_Great_," she mumbles. She remembers when the only plan was to get her out of the City and to the Fireflies, and now here they are in a completely different state, set on some wild goose chase. They don't even _know_ where the Fireflies are anymore.

Finn gives her a sympathetic glance – he knows that she's tired and impatient, but there's not much that he can do about it. They're stuck in this situation together. Still, he finds himself wondering how much trouble they're going to encounter before they finally get her to the Fireflies. His instincts tell him _a lot_.

With a gentle shake of his head, he turns to Rachel, "did you eat while I was gone?"

"I was waiting for you," she says, "and besides, there are only two cans left. I didn't know if you wanted to wait so we could stretch it out a little."

"Hmm, we should probably do that," Finn agrees, ignoring his hunger. They'll just have to scrounge up some more food in the next town they find, though casting a glance at her soaked clothes and then to the shirt clad girl, he has a feeling they won't be reaching the next town any time soon.

* * *

And so hours later, the hungry pair begin heading for another town, Rachel dressed in still damp clothes, and not exactly in a chatty mood, while Finn hovers to her side, still feeling awkward himself. He knows that it's stupid, but he just is so out of his comfort zone with the whole period thing. It's actually a little crazy – he's spent years doing the unthinkable, and now he's daunted by something as simple as this.

"Alright, which way?" Rachel asks as they find themselves in the center of the town, staring at all the possible routes. He does his best to get their bearings, but it's not as though his head is just a full map of the USA, and he's basically just using little pieces of knowledge he has.

"Let's try down here." Finn leads, his hand lingering over the small of her back as he continues them onward. He tries his best to keep his voice low, constantly reminded of the consequences that not doing so brings when he sees the scar on Rachel's arm. His head bows – Rachel had told him to stop thinking about it, and he wants to, he really does, but he hates the fact that she got hurt and he is partially to blame. He's supposed to be the one to protect her, to make sure that she gets to the Fireflies alive and safe.

A cool breeze weaves through the City, making its way past the pair. Rachel shivers at its feel, arms rising in a loose hug around her own body. She glances back and forth between the derelict stores surrounding them, curiously staring at all the names and images. When she suddenly becomes intent in one direction, he lets out a small laugh, "what're you doing?"

"I'm just looking," she admits, brows dipping together, "am I not allowed to?"

"'Course you are – it's just that you were pretty interested for some reason."

She shrugs, "I was trying to imagine what this place was like before the outbreak." Her voice takes on an unusually quiet and timid tone, "I do that a lot."

"Oh," he says, "right. I guess all you really need is a lot more people, and busy rush hour traffic…-"

"Rush hour traffic?" She tilts her head.

"Most people went to work at the same time, so that mean that the towns and cities were just full of cars. People would be stuck in traffic for hours."

Rachel's frown deepens, "why didn't they just walk?"

"I guess," he starts, "most people just got used to driving. Would you rather be sitting in a nice comfortable car or walking where it could be freezing and raining?"

"You have a point," she laughs, knowing that if given the choice, they'd definitely be in a car right now.

He grins in response, then adds, "while we're talking about it, anything else you wanna know? I'm kind of an expert about this."

"Okay, this has been annoying me for so long. What the hell is a pizza? Every city I go to, they used to sell them, and they're mentioned in some of the books that I've read, and I still have no idea what they are!" Her words build up with frustration, though it only makes Finn chuckle even more.

"Pizza is like, er, this bread-y, doughy sort of base, like in a circle. And you put marinara sauce on it, and then cheese – lots of cheese. And toppings, like pepperoni or ham, whatever you want really." Rachel still looks lost, probably not knowing what half of that stuff is, "let me just put it this way – it was probably one of the best foods out there. I mean, it's not exactly good for you, but who cares when something tastes that delicious?" Just at the thought of it, he feels his mouth watering, and stomach growling in hunger. He really, _really_ misses pizza.

"Finn, are you _drooling_?" she exclaims, face lighting up as she laughs.

His hand flies up in an instant, wiping at the corner of his mouth. With a glance in Rachel's direction, he swats at her head playfully, though she jumps out of the way, a bright grin aimed towards him. Finn returns it. "It's not my fault you're making me hungry," he laughs. Rachel likes it – seeing him so carefree and happy, when weeks ago he looked as though he carried the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

The sound of an engine suddenly startles the pair, and they dive into the nearest store, keeping their bodies out of sight as the roar becomes louder. Two sets of eyes peek through the window as the motorbike zooms past, weaving through the battered cars in the street. Finn, from where he's crouched over Rachel's smaller body, twists his neck to watch as it disappears out of sight, an idea beginning to form in his head.

He stands, eyes still intent on where the bike had just been, so much that he barely notices Rachel heading in the opposite direction. "Alright, let's go." He says, frowning when she doesn't say something in response straight away. Spinning on his heels, he sighs, "Rach."

"No," she calls over her shoulder, "I am not going toward the people who will probably try to kill us."

"But Rach - "

"Finn, _everyone_ that we've ran into either wants to kill us, or steal from us."

He starts after her, long legs quickly catching up with the girl. "Rachel, they're not going to do that." Finn's frown deepens as she shrugs off his hold of her arm.

"Yeah, right," she scoffs.

"They're not going to do that," he says more insistent this time, "but they're not exactly going to be happy with us when we steal that motorbike." His eyes glint excitedly, while she only gives him an incredulous look. "Hey, don't look at me like that, little miss 'I stole a gun.'"

Rachel halts, crossing her arms, "firstly, if I hadn't stolen that gun, we'd both be dead, and secondly, that was from someone who you know – not just some strangers that we don't know if they're dangerous or not, all for something that we could live without." He rolls his eyes - he knows that they don't need it, but with some form of transport they'll be in Wyoming in a matter of days, rather than looking at weeks. His aching feet would really appreciate that.

So, whether Rachel wants it or not, they're going to at least _try_ to get that bike.

"Rach, just trust me. If I ever think that either of us is going to get hurt, I'll stop, but what's the harm in trying?" Still, she doesn't budge. He finds it strange that normally it's him who's shooting down ideas, and now he's here insisting that they do this. In contrast, Rachel is clearly skeptical, and he understands – other people are bad news. You can't trust anyone, but they both know how much easier that motorbike would make their journey. Finn, not really in the mood to start another argument, simply walks up to her and throws her small body over his shoulder.

"Finn Hudson, you put me down _right now_!" She screeches so loudly that he's sure he loses hearing for a few seconds. "I will not hesitate to punch you," she threatens, but Finn calls her bluff, raising his brow. Limbs flailing, he struggles to keep a hold of her, and instead tightens his arm around her waist, the other just under her butt.

"I'm in charge, kid." he insists, earning a huff from the girl. He chuckles, enjoying teasing her more than he should.

She soon resigns herself to being carried by Finn, though verbalizes her protests in the form of ranting at him for a good twenty minutes. Despite ear ache and the tiredness from carrying her – no matter how light she may be -, he keeps his sights ahead and his eyes out for their new prize. Honestly, any form of a vehicle would be amazing help, and that's the first thing that they've seen actually _working_ since they were in Pittsburgh. He understands Rachel's hesitation, but surely she sees that it's worth a shot.

Soon, his muscles are sore with exertion, and he tilts his head up, "can I put you down now?"

"I never wanted to be carried in the first place," she says through clenched teeth.

"You gave me no choice," he returns, "you're too stubborn."

"Oh _please_. You can't call anyone stubborn."

He pauses, "hmm, whatever." And with that, he gently lowers her to the ground again, "stay right by my side, alright?" His strong commands cause her to nod and do as he says, if still miffed about the whole carrying thing. But desperate times call for desperate measures. They keep walking, Rachel sulking just a couple of meters away from him, until Finn sees exactly what he's looking for. Well, at first he hears the voices, and then hides as he follows the source.

After the voices comes the smashing of glass, to which both tense. Finn feels a heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach, but despite his worries and his brain telling him that this could turn out not so well, he pushes forward. Rachel follows, though definitely with uncertainties.

He kind of feels bad for forcing her to come with him to do this, but at the same time he doesn't really want her leaving his sight. Keeping his large body as hidden as possible, he peeks over the hood of a large truck blocking them from view, spying the two men frantically searching through the contents of the store they'd broken into.

"_Come on Sebastian. Hurry up_," the first grumbles as his companion seems to be taking his own sweet time with packing his backpack full of supplies.

The other, this Sebastian, just smirks. "_Calm down. We haven't seen a single person for days – we're _safe." He continues to carelessly scavenge through the shelves of the abandoned store. Rachel narrows her eyes suddenly, before they widen in a mixture of surprise and horror.

"I know him!" she hisses out, forehead creasing angrily. Any curiosity that Finn experiences is instantly overshadowed as he has to yank Rachel back before she heads full pelt toward the two.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barks in her ear, arms twisting tighter around her struggling body. She writhes against him, calling his name through tight teeth, but the last thing he needs right now is for her to blaze toward them in this state. "You're going to get yourself killed!" His voice must verge on shouting now, and he tugs both him and Rachel down when two heads shoot their way. A hand thrown haphazardly over her mouth, he whispers for her to be quiet. Rachel seems to finally regain rational thought, getting over her lapse of judgment, and she relaxes in his arms, though still breathing a little heavily.

"_Did you just _-"

"_Probably just some infected_," Sebastian disregards his friend's worries, "_let's finish off getting this stuff." _Upon hearing that, Finn breathes a sigh of relief, slowly moving his rough hand from over Rachel's soft lips – rather than looking angry, she appears to be decidedly glum.

"Come on," he says, pushing her body gently upwards so that he can stand, or more crouch, while she just slightly bends her knees to stay the same height as him. "We need to get closer," Finn then takes one look at the way her face hardens again, and adds, "_without_ them noticing."

She sighs, folding her arms stiffly across her chest. "Sorry," she mumbles, leaving Finn to wonder where the sudden burst of anger came from, and how it consumed her so quickly. He shakes his head, gently leading her to the cover of a fallen truck, which they shimmy across ever so carefully. Finn strains his ears to listen, feeling determination seeping into every inch of his body, and he tries to formulate a plan to coax the two men away from the motorbike.

They could distract them, but then at the same time they don't want something that will scare them away. But knowing their luck they're probably not going to be successful in this endeavor, no matter how much he wants it. He turns, making sure that Rachel's still beside him. Her eyes rise to meet his, remaining unsure and slightly annoyed. Once again he wonders where her outburst had appeared from, though pushes that to the back of his mind as they near the pair.

Like a predator, he eyes them with an intent look, watching their every movement. That Sebastian is prancing around without a care in the world, and Finn finds himself wondering how on earth he's survived this long. Rachel watches, too; her face is barely inches from his – all thoughts of the bike are gone and suddenly he's thinking about how she'd so tenderly kissed his cheek. It'd changed something in him that day, and he has no idea what, but he wishes that he didn't want her to do it again. No amount of wishing changes the fact that he thinks about it, a lot. But not just on his cheek. No, he imagines her soft lips grazing his own, so naively kissing him, pushing through her inexperience because she only wants to feel that deep connected that kissing brings.

He's thought about this way too much, and he shakes his head, narrowing his eyes on the scene ahead.

"So," Rachel asks, "what's the plan?" He feels a smile tug at his lips. She may not be fully on board with the plan, but her loyalty to him remains. Or maybe she just doesn't want to be picked up again. Either way, he's got to figure out their next move.

Finn goes with the distraction. They're close to the men, perhaps meters away, but not dangerously close. Besides, he doubts that they're that dangerous.

"We could kill them," he says, knowing that a well-aimed gunshot from each could easily have the motorbike being theirs. But for once, Finn is disturbed by the cold nature to his voice. And Rachel doesn't seem to like the idea, either. They'd both rather avoid killing another person if they can help it, and there are only two of them - how hard can this be? Still, Finn keeps his gun at the ready.

He returns his gaze upwards, watching as Sebastian steps further into the store, while the other lingers around the motorbike. That's the one that they need to take care of first.

"Okay," he whispers to her, his hot breath brushing her cheek. Rachel blinks, trying to keep focus, though it's difficult with Finn so close to her. "I'm going to go 'round to the other one and take care of him. When I give the signal, we both go for the one at the bike, alright?"

"What are we going to do to them?" she asks.

"Probably just knock them out," Finn shrugs, then waits for her to agree to the plan before he's stealthily slinking around the building. He has to keep stopping and starting every time eyes pass his way, though they just as quickly carry on scouring the area.

The sound of movement from inside the store leads him to Sebastian, where he carefully jumps through the window, avoiding the dangerous shards of glass, and lands on the floor with a gentle _thud_. Sebastian must hear it, because he spins, calling out. "_Hunter_?"

"Yeah?" comes the response of the other man, still lingering outside.

Finn hides in the shadows, using a large display cabinet to keep his body out of sight. Sebastian peers around, confusion melting into his expression, while his fingers gently curl around the handle of the revolver in his belt. Crouching, Finn slowly moves his body forward, trying to circle to behind the man. His breathing slows, heartbeat becoming louder in his ears, and each movement is slow and calculated.

Despite being slightly paranoid, Sebastian doesn't stand a chance. All six foot three of Finn seems to jump out of nowhere, so quickly that he barely lets out a strangled noise before the barrel of Finn's gun hits the back of his head in one precise hit. He watches with cold eyes as the man slumps before him, body dropping against the hard floor.

"_Sebastian_?" Hunter calls through, the lack of response from Sebastian obviously worrying him.

In a flash, Finn is leaning down on one knee, hands greedily snatching for Sebastian's revolver and any ammo that's on his person. For a moment, he briefly thinks about how this makes him no different from the bandits they encountered just a few days ago, but quickly shakes his head and forgets about that.

Just as he's standing, a shot bursts past him, skimming his head by mere inches. Eyes growing wide, he isn't fast enough for his own gun when another shot rings out, though this time it's way off target. Then he hears struggling, and it's all clear.

Rachel must've been closer than he thought, ready to jump in at the smallest sign of trouble; he's glad she was. Now, she is dangling from Hunter's back, one arm around his throat while the other tugs on his shooting arm. Finn gives a breathless sigh, surging forward to meet them, just in time to see Hunter elbow at Rachel's nose. She flies backwards, the wind taken out of her as her body collides with the floor.

It's completely reflexive now for him to hurt whoever hurts Rachel, and his own fists meets Hunter's face with as much power as he can muster. It's enough to render him unconscious, though Finn knows that they're on limited time.

He helps an already recovering Rachel from the floor, unable to stop himself from checking her over. His fingers hover over her cheek as his thumb wipes at the small amount of blood dribbling from her pink nose. "You alright?" he gently asks.

"Yes," she breathes, hand somehow finding its way to his arm, where it remains. One of the men groans – he doesn't care which – and Finn suddenly blinks back into reality. He leads them outside into the cool air, legs carrying him over to the bike, which waits eagerly for them. There's only one helmet, so he gives it to Rachel without a second though and sits himself onto the cushioned seat, his mind constantly reminding him that either man could wake up at a moment's notice; they've got to hurry.

The engine groans into life, and Finn turns to look at Rachel, before she jumps behind him, her arms instinctively sliding around his toned waist. His mind suddenly loses all train of thought at the feel of her body pressed up against his back, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Have you ever ridden one of these before?" she asks apprehensively over his shoulder.

"Nope," he grips at the handles, and a childlike grin grows on his lips. "Never." With that, the motorbike zooms forward, so quickly that Rachel lets out a small yelp of surprise and clings onto him that little bit tighter. Driving the bike is a little harder than anticipated, but he picks it up easily, and Rachel's death grip on him begins to relent.

Finn has no idea where this certain stroke of luck came from, but now with some transport they're sure to find Will soon, and then the Fireflies. He slowly, cautiously, lets his hopes grow.

* * *

**Finally, some luck has come their way!**

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	12. The kiss

**A quick update today! :)**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing, as always. You are wonderful!**

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* * *

The cool breeze soars past the pair as they race down the cracked and aged road, with nothing but a wall of trees on either side. Their clothes flutter in the wind, Finn wearing a new jacket over his shirt, and Rachel a thicker coat. She leans into him, keeping the man warm even against the resistant wind, and he smiles to himself, glad that she can't see.

Soon enough they're slowing to a halt as the gas runs out, Finn extending out his foot to balance the motorbike with the pair of them on it. He reaches up a rough hand, yanking off the helmet that they'd found on the journey, while Rachel reaches for hers. She then smiles, eyes rising up to his messy hair.

"Finn," she begins quietly, lifting her hand to gently comb it down. He twists his body and peers down at her.

_"_What're you doing?"

_"_Nothing," she hums, giggling when he pushes down her own helmet, which is too large for her head, so that her face is hidden. Rachel forces it back up, before removing it herself. She tucks it under her arm and smiles up at Finn, who returns the action. Before they lose themselves in the stare, she climbs from the seat, her nose scrunching up. "My butt is numb," she announces, to which Finn only chuckles, eyes moving down to said butt. Rachel struggles to hide her blush, instead turning in the other direction.

They've been driving pretty much all day, with the occasional stop for gas and then to stretch their stiff legs. And now with the sun barely peeking above the tips of the rooftops, the sky an orange haze, they both know it's time to rest. Each are hungry, tired, and since the motorbike is so loud that they can barely hear each other when they ride it, both are desperately seeking the company of the other. Even Finn, who's never been much of a talker. But Rachel's his friend, and weeks ago he would've thought the term 'friend' in a time like this wouldn't fit, but she is. She isn't a work partner, like Santana had been, nor is she just an acquaintance. She's worth much more than that to him, and he really has no idea how this one girl managed to worm her way through all the barriers he's spent years building up in a matter of weeks.

He stands up too, beginning to move the bike with him. "So," Rachel starts, in a bright mood; it must be the fact that they haven't had to walk so much in days, and they're practically on the border of Wyoming. "Dinner and then bed?" She sends a smile his way, one that instantly makes Finn smile back.

_"_Sounds good to me."

They hurry through the streets, ever vigilant and efficient, their eyes zoning in on any form of movement. But it seems that today they've struck some more luck, and after a few minutes the silence reassures both that there is little infected in this area. They share a sigh of relief, then an easy smile, and Rachel's already picking out their sleeping spot for the night.

When they find it, they hide the motorbike in the garage and slowly begin their search of the house. It's not fully dark yet, with streams of sunlight pushing through the boarded up windows, and they eat with its warm glow surrounding them. And then they slowly ascend the carpeted staircase, Rachel as always fascinated with the family pictures adorning the wall. If he's not mistaken, he sees a look of longing flash across her face, though it's gone as quickly as it came. He stands beside her, hand instantly slipping in hers, and she's okay again.

She drags in a heavy breath, leading Finn gently into the master bedroom, where a mass of sleeping bags litter the floor. "Must've all been sleeping in here," he starts with a quiet voice, Rachel barely tilting her head to peer his way. She silently tugs off her backpack and drops it beside the bed, before sitting herself on the spongy mattress.

With a smile, she beckons Finn over. As soon as he's seated, she's in his arms, comfortably so, and Finn wonders how they ever got to this stage. He never did this with Santana. He's never done it with _anyone_, but the weight of this girl in his hold is reassuring, almost uplifting.

Eyes taking in the room, he tries to imagine it years ago, before time and this outbreak took it as its victim – where everything's clean, the electricity working, and the world feels safe. He then looks down to Rachel, wanting nothing more than for her to have a world like that. But she won't, not ever. Not even if they manage to find a cure, because he's sure the actual survivors are outnumbered twenty to one by the infected, and it'd take years and technology they no longer have to wipe them out completely.

The thought weighs heavily on his mind, and his chest, so he speaks to distract himself. "We'll head to the inner city in the morning, once I've found some gas." He then pauses, "and we'll find out where the Fireflies are from Will. With any luck, they'll be close by."

Rachel nods. A few seconds later, she adds, "did I ever thank you? For doing this?" When Finn gives a thoughtful pause, she continues, "because I want you to know how grateful I am."

_"_I already know," he says, and she never needed to verbalize it, because he sees the thankfulness in her eyes all the time, whenever she looks his way. His whole body shudders as he considers if he hadn't been part of this journey and Rachel were left to fend for herself, that she may not even be here. "And anyway, I'm kind of glad that it all happened like this." She casts a curious look his way, "I know it's been tiring, and hard, and sometimes I've been so scared that I could hardly breathe, but I think about how I was and I look at how I am now... - it's almost like I'm a different person."

She gives a sweet smile, one that makes his heart blow up four times its size and he wants it to stay like this forever. "You're still the same person," she says, "but just without all the walls." Her smile brightens, "it only means that you're comfortable around me, and that you trust me."

Finn lets out a content sigh. "Hmmm, I guess you're right."

In the distance, he's sure he can hear the sound of a clicker, but it's too far away to be of any real concern to them. Rachel doesn't seem to share the same rational thought, and curls further into him.

Where she lies, head against his chest, she can feel his fingers gently caressing her back, and she wonders if he even knows that he's doing it. The ghost of her smile appears on her lips, "you know, I've never been this close to anyone."

_"_Really?" he breathes out in surprise. His heart clenches in an unfamiliar way at that confession. It's a new feeling, though not unwelcome.

_"_Never."

He hesitates, "what about Quinn?"

_"_Well, she knows a lot about me – she's known me since I was born, but she doesn't..." Rachel pauses, biting at her lower lip, which is still a little sore from where she'd been hit days prior. "She doesn't really know the real me. She wasn't even there most of the time, you know? Though I guess being a Firefly can't be that easy so..."

_"_No," he agrees with a curt nod, "an operation like that is going to be demanding." She gives a small smile, her fingers idly fiddling with Finn's shirt that she leans against. Suddenly all thought of the Fireflies and their journey fly out of his head, and he finds the words slipping from his own lips. "While we're on the subject; you're one of the very few people that I've been this close to."

She gives him a look that's nothing short of adoration – Finn really likes it when she smiles at him like that, because it's a smile reserved for him and just him, and he selfishly enjoys that. He smiles as well, not realizing that it's the soft, sweet one he too saves just for Rachel.

_"_That really means a lot to me, coming from you," she says. "I thought that you hated me when we met back in Boston."

_"_Well, no offence, but you kind of ruined my day," Finn lets out a short laugh.

_"_Screw you," she mumbles into his chest, the hint of a smile twitching on her lips. He shifts her in his arms, the girl suddenly feeling smaller than ever within his embrace, to which he pulls her closer. They hear that sound again, the startling _click click_ of the infected, and Rachel tenses in his arms. His fingers comb through her hair, hoping to soothe her. Their eyes meet, her chocolate pools staring into his hazel ones. He can't help thinking how beautiful they are, how beautiful she is – something as wonderful as her really doesn't belong in a world like this.

He doesn't take his eyes from her, he can't, and with each passing second he feels a growing tension, but in a good way. It wraps around the two of them, holding them together in an unbreakable trance.

Rachel feels those feelings return with vengeance, the ones that she's only ever read about in books, and those very same ones that she always hoped were real, yet never quite believed it. Her breathing increases, heart suddenly pounding in her ears as Finn begins to lean toward her. She's excited, scared, and when he's mere millimeters away from her lips, she finds herself asking, "have you ever...kissed someone before?" Rachel inwardly cringes at her words, wishing that she hadn't sounded so innocent and young.

But he doesn't seem to think the same thing. With a soft shake of his head, he replies, "not like this," and closes the gap between them. Their touch is surprisingly gentle, but then again he's always gentle with her. His hand moves to cup her face, tilting it ever so gently upwards. She closes her eyes, letting the feelings of joy and happiness overwhelm her for once in her life. His stubble grazes against her skin, causing Rachel to shiver.

Finn becomes more forceful, greedily kissing her now. He doesn't care that she's so young, that he could be taking advantage of her inexperience, because he really _feels_ something toward her, something that he thought he'd never be able to feel in his jaded heart. Her kisses make him go dizzy, light, and god, they just feel so _right_ to him.

It's Rachel who pulls back first, eyes drifting downwards before she nervously asks. "Was I – was it good?" She appears slightly daze, pupils blown.

He struggles to find his breath. "Yeah." He hooks his finger beneath her chin, and forces her to look his way as he says, "it was better than good, Rach. C'mere." His sweeps his arms around her fully again, smiling as she nuzzles into his chest. Neither question what the kiss meant, where it had come from, and instead sit contently in the other's embrace. The questions will come, just not right now.

She seems to sink into his chest, warm and soft against him. Finn gives a tiny smile, silently thinking how he's glad all that shit happened in Boston, because now he's here with her, and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

* * *

He wakes first in the morning, hearing nothing but silence from within the dark room. Peering downward, he catches sight of Rachel, sleeping soundly against him. As much as he wants to stay here and enjoy the peace and quiet while he can, he knows that they've got to get into the main City soon. So, with a small amount of reluctance, he untangles Rachel's arms from around him, rolling her onto the other side of the bed, and then slides off the mattress.

His achy limbs give a small, painful process, but Finn ignores that as he takes one look at the slumbering Rachel, smiles, and then sets off to have the motorbike full of gas before she wakes up.

As quietly as possible, with the still dimly lit sky as his cover, he gets to work. It takes a while, seeing as everything is so fiddly, but soon enough the motorbike is ready for another day's hard work. He gives a real smile at this – each day there's just something that makes his hope grow that little bit stronger, and he knows that it's all down to Rachel. She speaks of the cure with such certainty that he can't help but believe her that there will be one. One day. And it'll be all thanks to her.

The sun soon greets him, the sound of morning birds chirping away. It's peaceful. But he knows it won't last.

Soon enough, he hears movement from upstairs, rising to his feet from where he is sat by the bike and going through their supplies. Footsteps tap against the stairs, increasing with pace each time. "Finn," Rachel calls quietly, but clearly wanting to shout his name, ever weary that noise could bring unwanted visitors their way. He notes how her voice is almost falling into the panicked range, and he quickly makes himself known.

_"_In the garage."

Moments later she's stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, pillow marks on her face, and he finds himself laughing at her appearance. She looks as though she wants to throw herself into his arms, but decides against it. "You scared me," Rachel explains, "I woke up and you weren't there. I thought..." She doesn't finish the sentence, she doesn't need to.

Finn's arms sweep her into his quickly, putting her worries to rest. "I'm right here," he reassures her.

_"_Where were you?"

_"_Getting the bike ready. We can set off soon, actually – we want to get there in a few hours, so that there's more time to find Will."

_"_Okay," she replies in a tiny voice, suddenly alerting Finn that something is off. He gives her a curious look, to which she says. "Are we going to tell him about me being... you know?" Finn's never exactly been keen on others knowing about her immunity, and she understands why, seeing as most people would think it just an excuse to prevent her from being killed. People just _aren't_ immune. Except for her.

Like Finn had said, she's special. Rachel smiles as she relives the moment he'd told her that, really believing his words. Said smile disappears quickly as her mind returns to the matter at hand, "what if he reacts badly?"

He draws back his gaze, and he doesn't think as he gently lifts his hand to brush some stray hair away from her eyes. "Rach, he trusts me, and he isn't like everyone else that we've met."

Rachel doesn't look convinced. "If he's a good guy, then how come you left him?"

_"_What?" he frowns, forehead creasing.

She doesn't hesitate, "when you find someone that you can trust and that trusts you, the last thing you'd do is leave them, so why aren't you and Will travelling together?"

It's noticeable when his shoulders slack, face suddenly looking more tired than before. Her curiosity peaks, and she holds onto Finn that little bit tighter, as though insisting that he tell her the story. "We were close," he starts in a scarily low voice, "he saved me on the night of the outbreak, took me when Mom..." Pausing for a moment, he tears his gaze from hers, through they're still connected as her fingers thread through his. "Well, you know. And we were together for years. The first ones were the hardest really…it was all just so confusing, and I was just a kid then. He'd always tell me that things would get better, that we'd stop the infected – he was always the hopeful one. But at some point I stopped believing him. I just...I'd seen what those things do to people, and I thought that's it's never going to change. Well, maybe only to get worse." He lets out a sigh, remembering how by the ripe age of twelve he had become a shell of the kid he once was, forced to grow up too fast in a falling world. Rachel finds herself nodding, trying to imagine Finn at that age, but she finds herself unable to.

_"_And then what happened?" she asks quietly.

He gently sits himself on the seat of the motorbike, Rachel stood before him. His hands fall to her waist, not that either notice, and he frowns. "Will joined the Fireflies when I was fourteen – by then I'd lost all hope and when he wanted me to join too, I just couldn't do it. I'd accepted that the world was fucked up, and I couldn't lie to myself like that..."

Rachel nods, finding herself understanding Finn that little bit more. He watched the world he once knew change into something awful, something unimaginable, and she's sure that can't be good for anyone, especially a child. Her heart aches for him, for all the things he's lost. She was born into this chaos, it's all she knows, but Finn, he is constantly haunted with the memory of better times. "So you left?" she hears herself asking.

_"_I had to."

_"_And you went to Boston?" Rachel guesses.

_"_Yeah, that's where I met Santana. And she knew that the world was screwed, too. I guess that's why we got along so well – we weren't pretending to be anything other than what we were." He drags a hand over his tired face. "We were shitty people, she said so herself."

When he looks back to Rachel, the girl stares with the widest eyes he's ever seen, almost sadly. "You weren't, Finn. Not at all."

_"_Rach -"

_"_Look," she begins, hands on his shoulders. "We all do things that we regret, but it doesn't make us bad people. It makes us scared. And when people are scared they do stupid things." He tries to look away, thinking of all the stupid things he's done in his life, but Rachel cups his chin, keeping his gaze in her direction. "Thank you for telling me though. I know that you don't like talking about your past."

He tries to give her a smile, though it's more of a grimace. Despite that, he pulls her closer for a hug, feeling on edge as he thinks about his childhood, no matter how hard it was. She fits snugly in his arms, warm body surrounding his, and now he does smile. Her arms curl around his neck, fingers gently brushing through his thick hair, in such a soothing action that he finds his eyes closing contently.

"So how do you feel?" she asks from where her head is perched on his shoulder, "About seeing Will again?"

_"_Kind of weird," he admits. He gulps, "and scared, I think." Rachel shifts to look at him, lips pursed together thoughtfully. "But he's the only person I know that will help us, so I've got to try."

She gives a nod, "I'm sure he'll just be happy to see you."

_"_I hope so," he breathes. He can't deny that he's missed the man over the years, in spite of all their arguments that came with their opposite outlooks on life. He was like a Father to him in those first few years of the outbreak, and without him Finn is sure he wouldn't be alive together.

_"_So, are we going then?" Rachel suddenly asks, "we've got a big day ahead of us."

He starts to stand, their arms slowly detaching from the other and sliding down by their sides. "Yeah, you go get your bag and I'll get the bike started." With a nod, she hurries up the stairs, leaving Finn to his thoughts. He is apprehensive: he never thought that he'd see Will again in his life, but now necessity certainly calls for it, if he ever has a chance of finding the Fireflies.

* * *

They're not driving for too long today, the small suburban areas slowly changing into tall and more condensed City buildings. She's anxious, knowing that going to cities is never really a good idea, something which she and Finn have avoided as much as they can ever since the incident in Pittsburgh.

She clings onto Finn's waist; her head lay against his hard back.

For a moment, their closeness causes a blush to rise over her skin, seemingly all over her body. She likes it, despite never having experienced it before she met Finn. Rachel's mind just keeps returning to the kiss, the feeling of it a ghost on her lips. Never in her life has she felt something that made her feel so loved, so happy. Finn better want to do it again because she sure as hell does.

Before she knows it, gray clouds are gathering in the dark sky, showering them with a light drizzle, but they power through. There are a lot worse things in this world than rain, and they'll just have to get wet.

Besides, they're so close to Will's now. _Finally_, after so many weeks of waiting and just hoping that luck will come their way. It came in the form of the motorbike, which cut their journey short, thankfully.

So lost in her mind, she barely notices when Finn brings the bike to a stop, and her arms remain around his waist. She follows his line of gaze, suddenly her heart dropping into her stomach. Finn had told her about the small settlement that he and Will had lived in, which had been in an old orphanage within the City. As far as he remembers, it'd never been in the best condition, and it only became worst with age.

But now it looks as though time has truly beaten and battered the building – he was expecting it to be bad, but not _this_ bad. Slowly getting to his feet, he steps toward the old orphanage, eyes taking in the overgrown grass in the front, heading high above the rotten wood over the windows.

He yanks off his helmet to get a better look, eyes instantly drawn to the large door that he remembers always being locked and barricaded, but now hangs open by one hinge, looking as though a gust of wind could knock it over. Forcing down the lump in his throat, he takes cautious steps forward. "I don't understand..." he hears himself mumbles, though his voice doesn't sound like him.

"Finn," Rachel gently calls his name a few meters away, though it sounds so faint to him. He blinks, and steps forward, eyes straining to see into the dark depths of the building. But he _has_ to see. Ducking his head slightly, he moves under the slanted door and inside, where the smell hits him in an instant. He recoils at the smell that hits him as though walking into a brick wall. Stepping over the debris and rubble of many years of attacks, he hovers through the building, where it's no longer the small salvation that it was for him year ago.

There are bodies _everywhere_.

He doesn't know how long they've been here, but if the sight of bones under the rotted skin is any indication, it's been a while. Finn tries to force back the tears; this was once him home, his safe place, and it was that for these people, too. Now they're dead, all murdered. He resists the urge to vomit, dragging in long breaths of the retched odor that surrounds him.

Suddenly, he feels light-headed, and he reaches out for the nearest thing to him, surprised when it's Rachel's arms that hold him up. He hadn't even noticed her following him inside. "Hey, are you okay?" she asks worriedly, helping him to sit down. No response. "Finn?"

"They're all dead," he whispers out. But no, this can't be right. They're not supposed to be dead. Will should be here, because without him, how are they going to find the Fireflies? No, no, no. "_Shit_!" he hisses, dropping his head into his hands. "This can't be fucking happening."

His eyes peer through what's left of the faces, relieved when he doesn't recognize any of them. He doesn't know what he'd do if he found Will...like _that_. Oh fuck. That really makes his heart sting.

"What do you supposed happened?" Rachel asks sadly as she stares around at the awful scene. She then focuses her attention to an unusually pale Finn, grasping his face in her hands delicately. "You're not okay," she says, forgetting her question. _Of course_ he isn't. Why would he be? But he can't just sit like this for long: they've got to find out what happened; why this happened, and what the next step is. It feels like her own personal rain cloud is hovering over her as she realizes that their last step to the Fireflies has suddenly been cut off. Now what?

"No," Finn whispers, "everyone... Will..." His eyes close shut, as though not seeing it will make it not real. She only wishes that were true.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head, knowing that he shouldn't be acting like this – he should be trying to figure out what happened, because people die. He knows that; he has for years. But this one... this one really stings. Because all Will ever did was _hope_. Finn scoffs; looks like that got him nowhere.

Finn drags in the stale air, peering up to Rachel and wishing that she wouldn't look at him like that. It makes him feel vulnerable. But her gaze doesn't waver, so he pushes himself to his feet, grumbling out, "we should look around," before she can get a word. He moves through the building with a heavy heart as he looks at what's become of what was once the placed he called home. More bodies, more devastation. He finds himself in the bedrooms, where bunk beds are lined up as far as he can see. He's carried forward by some invisible force, ending up at the set of beds that he and Will once shared, and trying his best to keep everything together. He doesn't want to cry, he _can't_ cry. Not in front of Rachel.

Falling onto the thin mattress, he lets out a sigh.

This must be the work of patrols, he thinks. Either that or bandits, but then guns haven't been taken, nor the food. It's all to left to rot along with the bodies. So soldiers are a more likely bet. Finn doesn't realize when he lays down on Will's bed, remembering the times as a child when the only way to comfort him after a particularly hard day would be for Will to hold him until he fell asleep.

While Rachel's lingering on the other side – knowing that he needs space -, he lets a few tears shed into the pillow.

Shifting ever so slightly, he frowns as it gives a crinkling sound from beneath. It happens again, and with growing curiosity, he reaches beneath to find sheets of paper. Feelings overwhelm him as he catches sight of Will's handwriting littered all over the tattered sheets. He feels the bed sink as Rachel joins him on it, peering over his shoulder.

"What's that?" she asks cautiously, as though too scared for the answer.

Finn's scared, too. What if it's a dying man's words? He... he _can't_ handle that.

She takes one look at his face, and then reaches for the papers, knowing that he won't be able to read them, no matter what they say. Her eyes drift over the words, which seem to be logs of the days. Finn's suspicions for this mass homicide being of the soldier's must be right, because all too often there's mention of patrols in the streets.

And then she reads something that causes her to give pause, a hand resting on Finn's shoulder as she reads it once more just to be sure. "A group of us is leaving," she reads aloud to him, "me, Emma and some of the other adults." Finn's head rises in an instant, complete shock written over his face, mixed in with relief. "There's another settlement in Montana, near Lake Helena, which we want to get everyone to. It has enough food and room for all of us, even electricity. We'll go first, and then the others."

She sighs, realizing that the "others" are probably the bodies that little the floor of the building. Still, there's one good thing to come out of the letter, or so she hopes. "Will's alive," she breathes, watching Finn's face carefully. He chokes back tears, before nodding. She hugs him, not sure why, but she does.

Her arms wrap around him from behind, squeezing his body so tightly that she might push all the air out of him.

In barely seconds, Finn's on his feet, eyes suddenly alive with determination. "We need to get to Montana. Come on!"

Rachel has little time to follow his actions, watching as he runs from the room, so eagerly that he barely notices that infected are behind him. But she does. "_Finn_!" she screeches just as it lunges for him.

* * *

**I do too many cliffhangers. I know :P But some rather big developments for Finchel! Hope you liked it.  
**

**Please review :)**


	13. The fall

**Another update. What?** **Thank you again for all the people reading this fic! :)**

**And thank you to my wonderful beta Lucy.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Rachel reaches for her gun, heart jumping wildly in her chest when she realizes it's not there, and instead it's in her backpack. She'd put it because sitting on the bike with it in her pocket was more than uncomfortable, but now she wishes that she'd just sucked it up and dealt with it. Especially as Finn writhes on the floor beneath the infected.

Just as she's running toward him, more appear, leaving the small girl no other choice but to stop them from getting toward Finn. One, he can deal with by himself. A whole hoard, no way.

With a burst of adrenaline, she dives for the first infected she sees, hand scrambling inside her jacket pocket for her knife, which seconds later finds itself lodged in the creature's neck. It twitches like crazy, before the two drop to the hard ground, and Rachel bounds back to her feet. Her size and agility allows her to be faster than any infected that claws or bites her way. And she thrusts the blade into any part of them that get too close to her for comfort, causing wild and painful howls to surround her.

She jumps when she hears a gunshot, spinning on her heel to find Finn pushing off the limp body, his own splattered in its blood, but he's alive. That's all that matter. She resists the urge to run up to him and hug him, because she's still got her own problem – more infected are closing in on her.

One of the infected catches her arm tightly, sending the girl stumbling backwards with a yelp. She twists herself in its grasp, and sends a well-aimed hit right into the side of its skull, relieved when the hold of her arm weakens as it falls. Another shot rings out, making her wish she had her gun at her disposal, but there are only a couple left, and that's nothing to her and Finn. Within seconds they're joining the pile of others that failed to kill the pair, while Finn and Rachel look on with labored breathing.

"You okay?" she asks quickly, beginning to check him over for any bites, but there's just a lot of blood. Relief clouds over her body; she has no idea what she'd do if Finn were bitten, and the thought makes every fiber in her being shudder with fear.

"Hmm, I'm fine." He doesn't resist as she uses the sleeve of her jacket to carefully wipe away the blood on his face, in the back of her mind still on alert for any more infected. He seems to have similar thoughts, hand tugging at her arm. "Let's get the hell out of here." She nods, agreeing easily.

They begin for the exit when he suddenly stops, spinning on his heel. "Wait," he says, rushing back inside and then returning with the crinkled pieces of paper. His eyes scan over the messy scrawl, "Montana," he whispers. Then continues his way out of the building with such sudden vigor that Rachel struggles to keep up.

"You know the way, right?" she asks him as he moves to the bike, leaving Rachel to run after him.

He turns, as if suddenly remembering that she's there, and nods. Then hesitates. "Well, I _kind of_ know the way." Her expression gives it away, "we'll be fine, I promise. Now come on." His hand reaches for hers, pulling her behind him as they reach the bike, climbing atop it.

Rachel can't help sighing when she realizes that they're not any closer than they were before; they just have another clue for the puzzle.

* * *

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he leans back, wiping the grease off his hands and onto his jeans instead. "I can't figure out what's wrong with it," he says honestly, pushing himself from his knees and onto his feet. Rachel looks on helplessly, before her eyes suddenly look down the long, deserted road in the middle of these thick woods. He watches as she heaves in a large sigh.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" she asks, "I really don't want to go back to walking."

"I don't know." He shrugs, noticing the desperate expression slipping onto her features, almost begging him to fix it. He's _Finn_ – of course he can fix it. He sighs, too. "Okay. Gimme a little longer."

Her face breaks into a beam, and she gives him a thankful look, one that he can't help but smile back at. He suddenly wants to kiss her again, really badly, and the desire overwhelms him that he has no control over himself. Hands wrapping around hers, he pulls her small body closer to his, having to lean down so that they're at least similar heights. She's caught off guard as his lips graze hers, but it barely takes her seconds to react.

She deepens the kiss, no hesitance or uncertainty holding her back, and she lets her body do what feels natural. Her slender fingers thread through his thick tufts of hair, holding him so that their lips remain connected. That warm feeling consumes her again, beginning to pour from her heart and spread through her entire body until it's the only thing she can feel. His tongue just grazes her lower lip, to which a shiver shoots up her spine.

And she can't help thinking how thankful she is for Finn's kisses. She's never had a lot of things in life to look back on and smile – barely anything, really. But she knows, deep down in her heart, that she could never forget how amazing it feels to share this sweet action with Finn, and for once she has those good memories. Her heart swells, and she breaks the kiss, but doesn't move away from him. She moves closer if possible, head finding its place on Finn's chest. He kisses her forehead then, littering her hairline with each loving peck; she smiles into his chest.

She forgets. _Everything_.

The fear, the worries, the doubts, because none of them matter right now. All that matters is Finn holding her, making her feel as special as he once said she was.

She thought that the only happiness left in the world was found in books, a passage to a world that once was, but right now she knows how wrong she was, how there are so many feeling that she's been blind to over the years – the same feelings that have been waiting dormant for Finn to unleash them.

"We can do that again, right?" she asks him, tilting her face so that she's staring into Finn's eyes.

"Any time you want," he breathes.

Her smile grows, and she leaves a chaste kiss on his lips before they have to return to reality and focus on the problems at hand.

"So the bike," she starts, still kept in his warm embrace.

Finn purses his lips together. "I don't think there's any saving it, Rach." She pouts, and then mumbles her annoyances under her breath, though he knows they're not aimed at anyone in particular. "C'mon, get your stuff." Rachel huffs her way over to the bike, emptying the small compartment they've been using to store their food and supplies in. When she's done, she frowns at the weight of her backpack, though still shrugs it on. Finn does the same with his, sending one last regretful glance to their temporary savior.

He gives it a small salute, before starting to walk the way they'd been heading before the engine had stopped. "At least we didn't have to walk the _entire_ way to Montana," he tries, nudging her hip gently.

She nods, "I know. And I live safe in the knowledge that the person we took it from was an asshole."

Finn gives pause, suddenly remembering the way she'd acted that day, and while she has her outbursts he's never seen her _that_ angry. "Oh yeah – how did you know that Sebastian anyway?" He tilts his head curiously as they walk side by side.

"I met him in Boston once, when I used to sneak out of the schools." She says, "He was nice, but then some infected came and he tried to use me as a distraction for them so he could get away. When I wouldn't let him do that, we _may_ have got into a fight." Lifting her hand slowly, she points to the scar just above her eyebrow, "and that's how I got this."

"Well then," he nods, "I'm glad we stole the bike from the bastard. _Really_ glad."

She gives a small smile, "me too."

After that, they slip into silence, which occasionally stops for a small exchange of words. Both are lost in their minds, thinking about their progressing relationship and what it all means for the pair. Relationships are different now, obviously, and to be honest the only people that he's met in a real relationship has been Kurt and Blaine, and look what happened to them. But now that he's kissed her, he knows that he can't stop himself – he'll want to do it over and over again, and she already admitted that she does, too.

And Rachel, all she knows about relationships has come from the books she's read and her few encounters with people in the zone. He peers down at her, where she is lost is her own thoughts, and he really hopes that she doesn't expect too much out of him from this. He doesn't know anything about dating, and just the thought of it worries him. What if he does something wrong? What if he messes it up? Rachel deserves better than that.

When he turns again, he finds her gaze intently on him, her teeth nibbling at her lower lip. She then looks to his hand, and outstretches hers. Finn slips his fingers between hers, and they share a smile. This is the easy part, he thinks. It's just everything else that's hard.

"I sure hope that Will is actually at this place," she suddenly says, adding a dejected sigh, "I am so sick of getting my hopes up and then having them crushed."

He gives her a sympathetic look, knowing that feeling all too well. "He will be," he tells her, sounding convincing enough for Rachel, though he truthfully knows there no way for him to be sure. He just hates seeing her so sad. "Will doesn't like to move much, and if this place is as good as he says it is, he won't want to leave."

Rachel nods in agreement with him. "Do you think they really have electricity? Like, _all_ the time?" She asks with such awe that he finds himself chuckling.

The prospect of electricity does sound amazing, because the only thing he's had for years has been small generators, which barely have power for most appliances. It'd be just surreal to have working electricity, to be able to listen to the radio whenever he wants, or to even watch a movie. "Maybe," he says, not wanting to give her false hope. "I guess we'll just have to see."

"Too bad we won't be staying for long if they do," she says, knowing sadly that as soon as they find Will, they'll be heading off to the next destination, which should be the Fireflies. But with the amount of mishaps they've already encountered, she wouldn't be surprised if they get led astray again. Still, she can hope. That's all she can do really.

"We'll stay for a day or two," Finn nods slowly, but as expected he's still got the Fireflies in his mind, "but not long. We're so close now."

She sighs, "we were close when we thought Will was in Wyoming. What if he's not here in Montana?" Her face suddenly saddens, "what if they didn't even make it there?"

Finn's expression falls, paling at the thought. "They made it," he insists.

"Bu -"

"They _made_ it."

After that, she stays silent for a moment, not sure of what to say to that. She doesn't want to hurt Finn, not at all, but if Will didn't make it, she wonders how he'll cope.

His eyes glance over to her, and he then sighs. She sighs along with him. "I'm sorry – I just don't want to think about that happening to Will. He was always so strong, so brave, and I can't imagine him dying that way. No, he'd fight, I'm sure of it."

She nods, "it must've been nice, to have someone to look up to." She gives a sad smile, wishing that she'd had that as she grew up.

Finn's smile is even sadder. "It was."

For a few brief moments, the only thing that can be heard around them is the wind rustling through the trees, causing some leaves to fall and dance through the air, before drifting to the ground. Rachel watches, if only to distract herself from Finn's crestfallen expression. She does, however, squeeze his hand in hers, reassuring him that he can talk, if he wants to. She'll always be there to listen.

"It was hard for him," Finn admits, "looking after me. Most kids died so early on, and we weren't exactly equipped for fighting... I was nine – what nine year old is ready for something like that?" She nods sympathetically, hand bringing his arm closer and the other slowly rising to rub it gently in what she hopes is a soothing motion. "But he did always want what was best for me. He taught me so much.

"He'd always say to me, no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for." He pauses, eyes locking with hers for a brief number of seconds, but those seconds are just enough for Rachel to wonder what it is exactly that he fights for now. The cure for the infection? Himself? She doesn't know. "I think that's probably one of the things I remember the most about him, because it really does make a difference. I mean, what are we without a cause?"

"I don't know," she replies honestly, because he's right. People fight so hard to stay alive because they have a reason, something that they just can't leave behind. Quinn's cause is the Fireflies, Kurt and Blaine's had been that too, searching for a better life that they were sure is out there. And now she supposes it's what she's fighting for; bringing humanity back to what it once was, with Finn helping her every step of the way.

Finn's head hangs low again, "for a long time I was just fighting for myself. Because I didn't have anything else..."

"And," she begins slowly, a questioning tone to her voice, "now?"

"I have something to fight for now." He suddenly smiles toward her, catching the girl off guard.

"Good," she tells him simply, returning her own smile.

And so the two continue walking, just like before. But they are decidedly better rested than normal, with a full night's sleep and days of driving rather than travelling on foot. And the journey allows them time to talk, Finn sharing his memories of the time he'd spent at the orphanage, and things that he's never told with anyone else before, not even Santana. She knew he had a shitty childhood, because _everyone_ had a shitty childhood. But they just never talked about it – why remind themselves?

But with Rachel it's so easy, because he wants to share that part of himself with her, even if he regrets some of the things he did as a kid. And she wants to know, listening intently and hanging off every word that comes from his mouth.

They stray from the road, Finn sure that it's better to cut through the dense forests, which also offer protection for the pair. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rachel asks as she stares at the red and golden leaves that surround them, some scattered across the floor while the others hang in the canopy above. She smiles upwards, eyes taking in the warm colors with a look of awe.

"Yeah," he breathes, looking at Rachel in very much the same way.

"This is the first time I've seen fall properly. Well, like this anyway." Her smile grows so brightly, her whole body practically glowing with happiness, "all the trees, and the wildlife. I think my favorite part is watching the sunset, and that moment where everything just seems to _shine_ to life."

"When you describe it like that, you make it sound like it's the best thing in the world," he gives a wry smile her way.

Her eyes shyly meet the floor, "it's just new. And it's so much better than being stuck in the zone. I hated it there."

"You and me both," he mumbles. Sure, it's safe in the zone, and there's a guarantee of food and water, but there's also an abundance of soldiers and rules, which are dangerous if you don't follow. Besides, from what they've seen, more quarantine zones have failed, with the soldiers keeping whatever remaining food for themselves and letting chaos break out amongst the survivors. For all they know, the zone back in Boston may be another down a long line of failures, and they are lucky to have got out when they did.

The trees become sparser the further they walk, and soon he realizes why when he hears the flow of water, not long after spying the river that flows through the forest, water surging quickly over rocks and past them.

He sends one look toward a hesitant Rachel, before saying, "we'll just follow it for a while and find a safer place to cross." She nods, taking another glance at the deep water, crashing over itself as it hurries downwards.

"You know," Finn begins, "one day I'm going to teach you how to swim."

She gives him a look. "Nope. Not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"I do not like water," she insists, "Remember when we were getting out of Boston and I almost _drowned_ in that flooded building? Ugh, I hate water so much. So no - _no way_." Her frown deepens, forehead creasing together tightly.

"Yeah, but if you could swim, then you'd like it," he argues.

All he receives in a pointed look, crossing her arms over her chest.

He sighs, "it's okay if you're scared about it." More silence, and then he notes how her body tenses. "But I wouldn't let anything happen to you, you know that." His eyes are sincere, deeply so, and they both know how much he means that. He has tried, and in some cases succeeded, in killing anyone who so much considers causing her harm in any way, shape or form. To say he's protective of her would be an understatement. Not that she isn't capable of taking care of herself – she's proved herself time and time again, but Finn just wishes that she didn't have to, because each time she does face all the dangers that the world has to offer, there's that chance that she might not come out of it alive.

And that fucking _terrifies_ him.

"I'm not saying we do it _now_," he tells her, casting an eye on the rapid movement of the water beside them. "But maybe if we get to this settlement and they have a lake or something nearby. We'll go, just you and me." His heart breaks at the look of hesitation that crosses her face, because she really _is_ scared, and he knows that facing your fears isn't easy, not in the slightest. "Look, if you ever feel really uncomfortable, you can stop. But I'd really like it if you at least tried."

She lets out a sigh, and he knows that he's convinced her. "Is that a deal?" he asks with the hint of a smile.

"Maybe," she replies, pushing past her anxieties about swimming to acknowledge that Finn is probably right. But what if it takes her a while to learn it? What if Finn gets frustrated with her? She doesn't want that; she never wants that.

He takes that as a yes, smiling at his small success. She returns it, though her smile is more cautious.

The river is long, seemingly never ending as it heads as far as they can see through the woodland, and Finn curses when he realizes it's only getting deeper, the speed of the flow increasing with each step they take. And ahead, he notes that the side of the river they're following is going to be cut off rather soon by a sharp drop downwards. When he observes closer, peering over the edge, he feels sick as vertigo suddenly takes him in its grasp.

"That's one hell of a drop," he announces, turning back to Rachel, then to the river. "Looks like this is where we cross."

"Bu -" He silences her with a look. Well, for a couple of seconds. "Can we not find another way around it? What about if we find a way to the bottom?" Though she knows it's moot point to argue with him, she still looks on hopefully. Her eyes drift over the ledge, where she can find barely any way of getting down that wouldn't add another couple of hours to their journey, and would mean walking back on themselves, too.

She sighs when she realizes Finn is already looking for a way across the river, leaving her staring downwards at the huge expanse of trees. "Rach," he hollers to her. Slowly, she peers back at him. "C'mon," he gestures toward the river, "I think I know a way across."

Her small legs struggle to catch up with his longer ones, but soon she's by his side again as he eyes remain intently on the river banks. Beneath him, the dirt is moist, squashed by his weight, and his footprints are left in his path, until he stops. Across a cluster of rocks spread equally over the width of the river, an old, thick tree lays fallen. Its surface has slowly been usurped by slippery green moss, and she notices how it barely goes most of the way across, leaving a good jump to the other side.

Rachel sends Finn a pleading look. But he's already stepping onto the mass of rocks, trying to get steady footing on the first part of the trunk. It remains firmly in place, so he hops onto it fully, testing his weight against the trunk that must've been there for a while with the current battering against it.

"See?" he smiles, "all good. And if it can support me, then it can definitely hold you up. You're tiny." He takes a couple more steps, holding out his arms for balance, while Rachel watches on, dreading her turn.

"I still think we should've gone back," she mumbles.

He sends a look over his shoulder, now finding himself in the center of the river. The splashing and coursing water surges past him, rising in a thin mist around him, cool and refreshing. Rachel lingers, watching him move further away from her, but she doesn't want that. She wants him right by her side so that she doesn't feel as apprehensive and anxious. "Finn," she starts slowly, _needing_ to hear his voice as reassurance.

"Yeah?" he suddenly halts, turning to spin on his heel. But it's a stupid mistake. The slippery moss, combined with the water causes his sneaker to lose grip in a matter of seconds. His right foot falls first, dipping down into the icy water, his other following. "_Finn_!" she screeches as his forehead collides with the thick trunk on his fall, his body slumping in an instant.

For a moment, Rachel forgets how to breathe.

His body is consumed by the water, until she can't even tell where he is, and her eyes frantically search for the man. "Finn!" she calls again, almost ready to jump in after him even though she knows there's no way she can keep _herself_ up, nevermind Finn too. Her heart pounds in her head like a drum, louder than sound of the running water that seems to be moving faster than ever. And she _still can't see him._

"No," she murmurs to herself, "no, no, no." The word is chanted over and over, varying levels of distress accompanying it. "Finn, Finn, where are you?" she screams. What should she do? What the fuck should she do? He can't leave her, he _can't_. Not like this.

She tries to find something, anything. Maybe she could throw something in for him to grab onto and pull him to safety. But oh, he's unconscious. Her heart spazzes in her chest, panic rising to an alarming level. And God, she feels like she's going to _throw up_.

"Finn, please!" she yells, because she has no idea how she's supposed to save him, and that's the thing that hurts the most.

Just then, an arm breaks through the surface, following by Finn's head which struggles for air as the water crashes around him, deafeningly so. He has no control over his weak limbs as he's dragged with the strong current, trying not to swallow any more of the water that's trying to infiltrate his body. Disoriented and confused, he aimlessly kicks his legs in the opposite direction, trying to get to shore.

He's sure he can hear someone calling him, but the voice is so far away and his head hurts. _A lot._

She runs after him, legs aching with effort, but she has to stay with him. She _has_ to. He looks so utterly confused, trying to swim, but he doesn't have enough strength to counter the current and his large body suddenly looks _so _small as he's swept away before her very eyes. "Fuck," she curses to herself when he dips underneath again, this time only for a few seconds.

She's scared, so very scared, and that fear only increases when she notices the edge looming ever closer.

Her heart sinks. No, it _plummets_.

She almost does throw herself in after him at that point. She's so desperate that she is a brief second away from doing so before the rational part of her mind kicks in. He calls her name – she hears the terrified shout from somewhere in the rushing water, and she responds with an equally anguished one.

She struggles for breath, legs slowly to a halt when the edge is right before her, and she is forced to watch Finn fall over it. Rachel's world shatters around her, heart beating so fast she thinks it might just beat right out of her chest. Hot tears burn her cheeks, but she doesn't even realize she's crying. All she can think about is Finn. He just… he _fell_ and now, what is she going to do? What if – god, he might not even be alive!

All Rachel knows is that she _has_ to find him. There's no other option in this. She runs, faster than she's ever ran before, muscles burning, and just hopes that she's not too late.

* * *

He groans as his body begins to feel again, but the only thing that he's aware of is pain, and lots of it. Everywhere. There doesn't seem to be an inch of him that's escaped it.

He's not in the water any more, or he seems not to be. It's hard beneath him, cold. He shifts slightly, and then groans again.

"Shh, don't move." A voice says, shocking Finn completely. The voice sounds almost familiar, but right now his overworked brain is pressured by all the pain in his body. "You're going to be okay." He tries to open his eyes, but it's too hard, as though they're glued shut. His fingers twitch, sending a searing spark up his arm, and his whole body tenses with a light hiss. "Finn, stop moving," the voice is more insistent.

"Wh –" He can't seem to manage any words, throat sore and weak. His whole body is weak. Never before has he felt more vulnerable.

But this person knows his name, and they're so tenderly checking over his body.

"You're safe," another voice assures him. Dammit, he knows that one, too.

More determined than ever, he puts all his effort into just opening his eyes. Why is it so fucking hard?

But _finally_ his body listens, and they flutter open. And when they do, he's more than shocked to find himself looking up at _Kurt_ _and Blaine_, and some blond haired man that he's never seen before. But no, this is wrong. They're… they'd dead. Wait, is he dead, too? His mind begins to freak out, yet his body remains as still as ever, paralyzed in the spot. .

Suddenly he remembers something, something more important than himself, or Kurt and Blaine. He musters all of his efforts, and manages to mutter out the name, "Rachel."

* * *

**Some familiar faces again!  
**

**Please review :)**


	14. The separation

**This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write, and I must have deleted and rewritten parts at least ten times. So that explains the wait.**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She runs and runs, legs begging for her to stop, but she can't. Because she isn't with Finn, and that's not right. She has to be with him. So she pushes through her pain, ignoring the cramp in her legs, her stomach, and she cries some more as she runs through the trees.

"Please be alive," she chants, because she that's what she needs. He could be injured, on the brink of death, but that's okay; if he's like that then there's still a chance that she can help him. If he's gone, then she doesn't know how she's going to survive. Not one bit. Finn has been a constant in her life for weeks now, there at her side every second of every day. And all of a sudden he _isn't_ there; she's scared beyond belief.

Her pace slows now, and she feels like she's been running for days, but she's there, where Finn will be. Either dead or alive. She knows that she's not ready if it's the prior, yet she should be realistic. He fell off a _waterfall_ – that's... Her head slowly shakes all the thoughts from her mind as she steps closer to the pool of water at the bottom, eyes frantically searching for Finn. She calls his name, then again when she has no reply.

It's hard to breathe right now, and her heart aches as all the possibilities whiz through her mind, but she forces herself to keep looking. She isn't going to give up on him.

But her hopes slowly disappear when her thorough search comes up empty handed, again and again. The flow of tears is unstoppable, as she hugs herself tightly and cries out Finn's name like a lost child, praying that he'll respond.

He doesn't.

At some point, she sinks to her knees, not caring about the muddy ground beneath her, body heaving with the sobs that take over. Each one painfully tugs at her heart, leaving her with little breath. She drags her knees up to her chest, curling into a small, shaking heap. Finn is _gone_. She whimpers out his name now, sadness and despair sweeping over her. He can't just leave her, not like this. He promised that he wouldn't. He _promised_.

The loss cuts deeper than any other before. He wasn't just someone there to protect her; he was her friend, her _best_ friend. Someone that she has feelings for, those scary, romantic feelings that she has never felt before in her life. And Finn felt them too, she knows he did.

But now, he's gone. Her wonderful, strong Finn is gone, and she's not ever going to feel those things toward him anymore. A fresh batch of tears come as she remembers their kisses; she thinks how she would've made it more special if she'd have known that it were the last one she'd ever have with him. Heartache gnaws away at her, to which she just curls further into herself.

She sits like that for hours, not caring if anyone else finds her, or if there are any infected. For those few hours, she doesn't care if she dies or not, because the one good thing she had in this awful world is no longer hers, and she can't seek any comfort from him. She'd do anything, give anything, to feel his warm embrace, or his soothing voice.

She's never felt so alone before, and she _hates_ it.

* * *

He hears the soft murmur of conversation first, and he twists his neck slightly to face its direction. The words make no sense to him, but he needs to know what's going on, and lay on his back he feels pretty vulnerable. He hates that. So he opens his eyes, finding it easier this time, though wants to shut them again when he's faced with blinding light.

"_Ah_," he frowns, lifting a hand to block at the annoying brightness. A sudden pain shoots up his stiff arm, Finn blinking profusely until his eyes focus on all the bindings over it, as well as a sling.

"Finn." A voice says. It's Kurt, it's definitely Kurt, and as his gaze moves, he is confirmed to be right. Right in front of him is Kurt and Blaine, both wearing similar expressions of concern. But his mind must be playing tricks on him, because they're dead. He saw Blaine's bite with his own eyes. Unless… _he_ could be dead, too.

Then he shifts and his body cries out in pain. If he's dead, why does he still feel pain? He tries to sit himself up, when suddenly two pairs of hands are on him. "Slow down," Blaine gently tells him, "you're in pretty bad shape."

He feels it.

And as his eyes tug down his body, dressed in some thin clothes that he definitely wasn't wearing before, he sees the variety of bruises and cuts covering his skin. And that's just on the outside; he doesn't even want to know how much damage there is inside. "Where…" he manages, throat dry and sore, as though someone sandpapered it, "where am I?" Speaking is an effort, but he needs answers.

"You're in Montana," Kurt explains as he sits on the bed, watching Finn carefully. "We found you when we were out searching for food. You almost drowned." He speaks gently; worry still making its way into his voice.

Blaine nods sadly, "and then you woke up for a few seconds, mumbling things that didn't really make sense, but you passed out after that. So, we brought you here." Finn shakes his head, not understanding. He's hearing the words, but he's not exactly taking them in.

"But," Finn sighs, eyes closing as he struggles to get out the words. "I can't be… you two – you're _dead_." And they are. He knows they are. Unless Blaine has a twin brother than nobody's told him about. The pair share a look, one that he doesn't even bother trying to read. He's so _tired_.

"No Finn...Blaine - he's immune." Kurt replies quickly, happily. Finn just blinks, because right now it's an effort to really absorb the information. Not only that, but a few weeks ago he'd never met or heard of anyone being immune, but now he knows _two_ people who've survived a bite. How many more are out there? Or worse, how many immune people have died unnecessarily? "We waited days for him to turn, but nothing happened. He didn't turn, didn't even show any signs of it. We were shocked, but relieved." He pauses, "_So_ relieved, and then we tried catching up with you. You must've been too far ahead. Instead we met Sam, and he brought us here."

"And," he winces again, "what is this place?"

Now, they both smile. "It's just a group of people trying to survive," Blaine says, "but we have so much now. Crops, a few animals. Power. It's not much, but for us at least, it's home." Finn notices how the man's fingers curl around Kurt's, to which they share a smile. The small gesture between the pair reminds of a certain person in particular, his entire body freezing over.

"Rachel," he breathes, "did you find her, too? Where is she? Oh _fuck_." He tries to stand, his weak legs practically crumbling beneath him. He's lucky that Kurt and Blaine are lingering close enough to catch him, or his face would have crashed into the floor. Still, this does nothing to calm him. His heart sets a rapid pace, head spinning. He doesn't remember much after he'd fallen into the water, but he remembers hearing the anguished calls from Rachel. What happened to her? Is she out trying to find him now? His heart sinks when he thinks about her, scared and alone. "No, no, no," he whispers to himself.

His eyes then rise to meet Kurt's. "You _have_ to find her," he pleads. They need to find her before somebody – or some_thing_ – else finds her.

The pair returns Finn to his bed, where he knows he won't be able to get comfortable again until Rachel is found and with him. His tired body falls against the old pillows, worn from briefly standing. He needs his rest, he knows, but he also needs to go and help find Rachel.

"Okay," Blaine reassures him with a gentle pat to the arm. "We'll send out a search party later –"

"_Now_ –"

"- When there are enough men to go," he insists, and then tries to pretend he doesn't notice Finn's pointed glare because they're not leaving that very second. "When we go out, it's always in big enough groups in case we run into trouble. Our group has just returned, so now everyone is resting. But we'll go soon."

He starts shaking his head. "That's not good enough – _I'll_ go." Once again, his efforts to stand are stopped by the two.

"Finn," Kurt tells him, "you need to rest. Your arm is broken, and you're very weak right now." He peers down to his arm momentarily, but that isn't important; what's important is that Rachel could be in trouble and they're not doing anything about it other than sitting idly by. He needs to go, to make sure that she's safe.

"But Rach –"

"Is smart. And she knows how to take care of herself." Blaine looks sadly at him, that they can't help as quickly as Finn wants. No, _needs_.

Finn frowns deeply. Of course he knows that she can take care of herself, he doesn't need Blaine reminding him of that. But no matter how well equipped she is, he'd rather she didn't need to fight anyone off. He wants her safe, that's it. Just safe, with _him_. He hadn't realized how strongly her presence calmed until now when he's without it. Finn just feels on edge, heart seizing in his chest. It's an awful state to be in, especially with his already pained body.

Just the thought of her out there makes his head spin with worry; his protective side completely takes over. "No, you don't understand. I _need_ her here." His eyes plead with them, as the desperation cracks his voice. He doesn't care that he sounds so weak as he practically begs for them to find her, because all he cares about is Rachel.

Blaine's gaze meets the floor. "I'll see if I can organize something sooner. But you need to rest, okay? Leave finding Rachel to us."

He'd rather do it himself; he knows he'd do a better job, but right now he isn't going to be let out of this room. Finn really wishes that they realized finding Rachel is more important than his own recovery.

But he waits to see what exactly Blaine can manage, which is a small group of about six men, and Finn has to sit there dejectedly as they ready themselves for the journey back to where they'd found Finn yesterday, which is hours away. Upon hearing that, his hopes begin to deteriorate. She could be _anywhere_.

* * *

If she weren't crying so much, her mind solely focused on Finn, she'd probably be thinking how cold it is, arms wrapping around her small frame in a hug. But as it is she can't really focus on _anything _but Finn.

She hasn't eaten since yesterday, and the couple hours of sleep she'd managed had been completely restless and filled with dreams of Finn. She truly feels like her heart is torn in two, and she knows how to fix a lot of injuries, but she has no idea how to mend a broken heart. All she can think about is how much she misses him – his smile, his strong, comforting embrace, and his sweet voice that makes her know she's safe.

But she isn't safe right now. She's in the middle of a state she's never been to before, scared beyond belief. Finn should be with her, guiding her to the Fireflies, and yet she's all alone.

Her legs carry her through the woods, but she doesn't know where she's going. She'll occasionally call out his name, a last act of desperation, but she knows he's gone and the sooner she accepts that the sooner she'll be able to pull herself together and find the Fireflies herself. A part of her doesn't want to do that – it wants to just sit down and cry until all this pain in her heart will just stop. She doesn't think it'll ever stop though.

An icy wind rustles the trees, wrapping itself around her. Rachel shivers, though keeps on moving. For a moment, she finds herself wondering if she'll ever find Will. She might not make it; there's no food in her backpack, and while she can hunt, she hasn't seen any animals in the entire day that she's been here. And what if she runs into trouble? When she did so in the zone, she always knew that she wasn't too far away from school, where she could easily return to safety, but here there is no safety, no assurance that she won't just be killed.

Maybe that'll be best. There might be a chance that she'll see Finn again, if heaven or any sort of afterlife is real. She'd do _anything_ to have Finn by her side again, where he belongs.

She suddenly shakes her head at that thought. Finn wouldn't want her to be considering such things – he'd want her to keep on fighting. Like he'd said, no matter what, you keep on finding something to fight for. She may be alone now, but that doesn't mean she needs to just _give up_. She owes more to Finn, and to _herself_, too. They didn't come all this way for nothing and, despite the anguish she feels weighing down her entire body, she knows that the most important thing right now isn't her heartbreak, but is finding the Fireflies.

The tears begin to slow. She forces down the lump in her throat, trying to muster as much strength as she has; she's going to need it if there's no one to depend on now. She guesses with Finn she just got too comfortable – she should've realized that something like this would happen. It was all too good to be true, someone staying with her for this long, and now she's paying for that with the pain in her chest reminding her that getting attached to people in this world is never good. That's what Quinn always told her. Rachel never really listened to that, of course, but she didn't have a reason to before; she'd never felt this way about anyone, and a part of her wishes that she had listened to Quinn.

She peers around at the forest, thinking of how yesterday she'd considered it so beautiful, and now it feels like a cage, trapping her inside. Rachel wants out, to find this settlement, but she doesn't know which way to go. Still, she keeps on walking. She isn't going to give up.

Ignoring the ache in her feet, she pursues her goal. Around her, the forest is eerily silent, and soon enough the only thing she can hear is her loud heartbeat. She's scared – _terrified_ – and her fingers curl around her gun, just in case.

The sun hides behind a patch of clouds, causing her surroundings to darken, much like her mood. She suddenly feels on edge, whole body tensing as her senses scream that something is…_off_. Spinning, she finds the forest floor devoid from any signs of life, even that of animals and Rachel forces herself to drag in a long breath.

"It's just your imagination," she tells herself, needing to fill the silence with her own voice, "pull yourself together."

Her next few steps are cautious and hesitant, because all she wants to do is go back to where she'd last been with Finn, but she knows she has to move forward.

But there it is again; that feeling that something's wrong. And this time she's proved right when she immediately hears the crunch of leaves ahead. Her weapon is up faster than she can think, and she tries to keep on a brave face despite feeling everything _but_ brave.

It happens again. Rachel's heart races, breaths coming out shallow and irregular. "Who's there?" she calls out, "come out or I'll –" Her words are cut short when a couple of figures emerge from the trees, to which she only grips the gun tighter, not letting her hard expression falter.

The first man gives a tentative smile toward her, one that she doesn't return. He holds his hands up with the gun pointed his way, and she takes a moment to glance over his appearance. He's in clean clothes, looking relatively well cared for; his curled hair is cut short, while he wears a freshly shaved face. He clearly has supplies, and she hopes that he's from the same settlement that Will is. "Hello," he greets.

She doesn't say anything. Instead, her deep brown eyes narrow toward him.

"Who are you?" she demands to know, then adds, "and what do you want?" He takes a step closer, while she counters with one step behind.

"We're not going to hurt you," he promises, eyes darting to the man beside him.

Her jaw tightens, "and how am I supposed to believe that?" She spies the shot gun over his shoulder, gesturing to it with the end of her own gun, "put that on the floor." Hesitance crosses his expression and more firmly she says, "Put the fucking gun on the floor or I'll shoot you."

"Hey now," he begins in a soft voice, but it feels as though he's mocking her, "we didn't mean to scare you. We just –"

Rachel cuts his speech short, knowing that she shouldn't trust him. Finn wouldn't, so she won't. "Gun," she repeats, and then nods down to the floor. And then her eyes flicker to the other man, with dark, black hair, and who wears a scowl against his pale skin. "You too," she insists, her forefinger moving to hover by the trigger of her own pistol.

He casts a glance to the other man, whose expression is unreadable. When they remain motionless, her frustration and fear builds, and she desperately considers what Finn would do. They haven't hurt her, or tried to, but she doesn't trust them at all. She could run, but she's so tired that she thinks it'd only take them a few minutes to catch up with her. And then she would be in trouble. For now, she's armed and in a better position than them. "Look –" He ducks as she sends a warning shot straight past him, the bullet lodging itself into the tree directly behind the man.

Her dark look leaves no room for compromise, and the first begins to lower his weapon.

"Jesse," the other hisses, "_what're you doing_?"

"Put down your gun, Chris." He insists, but his keen eyes remain on Rachel. She feels uncomfortable under his gaze, but doesn't let it show. Jesse carries an air of authority with him that makes it clear he's in charge, and the other man is powerless to him, reluctantly lowering his own gun.

Rachel quickly takes hold of them, hoping that they don't notice the way her fingers tremble around the gun. "Now," she continues, voice lower than ever, "what do you want?"

"I'm Jesse." The older looking one explains, his voice confident and assured despite staring down the barrel of a gun. "We were out hunting when we saw you – are you okay?"

_No, not at all. _But she can't find her voice to speak.

"This is a waste of tim –"

"Will you just shut up?" Jesse barks toward Chris, eyes ablaze, though they soften as they move to Rachel again. "What's your name?" he asks her gently.

She only replies with the tightening of her jaw, to keep herself from letting any information slip; she'd rather they know nothing about her. That way they don't have any information to use to her detriment. Her eyes momentarily lock onto his, and she doesn't like the way they seem to be sneering toward her despite the smile he wears on his lips. "You look hungry," he tries a different approach, "if you want, you can come back to our settlement, where we ha –"

"No," she shakes her head, "I'm not going anywhere with you." It's hard to keep the hesitance out of her voice; the idea of food and shelter is so tempting, but she can't go with them. She can practically hear Finn's voice in her head, warning her against it. It's so clear to her that tears spring into her eyes with thoughts of the man, and she does her best to blink them away. Her best isn't good enough as Jesse notices, his face suddenly undecipherable.

"I know it's not easy to trust anyone," he admits, "but don't you think if we wanted to hurt you, we could've done it by now?" Her gaze meets the floor as she considers that; they easily could've snuck up on her with the trees as their cover, but instead they chose to make themselves known. He has a point there. Suddenly, she feels herself wavering, wanting to go, wanting to be safe again.

Rachel frowns, hard stare now on Jesse. "I'm not going to fall for this nice guy act," she insists.

"Act?" he cocks his brow, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Rachel lets her gaze return to Jesse's companion, able to tell from his expression that the man is indeed up to something.

"Just leave me alone," she now says.

She half expects them to laugh at her; that's what normally happens. To them, she's a poor, weak kid, but she knows that in a fight she could probably kick their ass. And besides, she has their guns now. But despite having the upper hand, she finds her anxieties kicking in – she hates being so uncertain about what's going to happen, especially when there's no one to put her worries to rest.

Jesse observes her carefully, and she wishes more than anything that she could tell what he's thinking. He then, very slowly, twists his head so that his intense gaze is off Rachel, and she feels the relief immediately, body tensing just that little bit less. "Come on, Chris. Let's go."

The defeat earns a look of shock from Rachel and a scoff from the other man. "Are you fucking kidding me? She has our guns. Just ki –"

Reaching out, his fingers grip around Chris' arm. "Move," he orders, voice so intimidating that he stuns the other man into silence. And then his eyes are on Rachel again, smiling. "Sorry for scaring you and, uh, thank you – for not shooting us." Eyes glowing darkly, he bows his head and begins a retreat. She only watches with her raised gun as the two figures disappear into the trees, releasing out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

And they're gone, but she still feels that heaviness hanging over her. She's confused as to Jesse's actions, wondering why he surrendered so easily, letting her take his weapons. But then if he did that, he must have more back in that settlement.

She wonders what else is there. Food, he'd said. At the thought of it, her stomach growls hungrily and she sighs. She'd do anything for something to eat right now, and she hates that she's just passed up the opportunity to eat. It was for her own good, she reminds herself.

But then her eyes drift to where they'd gone, and she wonders just how many supplies they have. A settlement, he'd said. That means that there are lots of people, who need lots of things… The wheels in her mind begin turning quickly as she considers following them. But that's a stupid idea, right? Finn wouldn't do that, or she doesn't think he would. She meekly sits herself against a tree trunk, dropping her light backpack to the floor. A thought then occurs to her – what if this settlement _is_ the one where Will is? Rachel curses under her breath at the idea that she just let the opportunity pass so easily, because she needs to find Will in order to find the Fireflies. And she has to find the Fireflies. For _Finn_. For all the hard work he put into it, into helping her.

She jumps to her feet, a sudden determination sweeping over her. She's scared, sure, but she can't just let them slip away when they could be leading her right to Will. So Rachel pushes down her worries and hurries in the direction that Jesse had left, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that she should be going in the opposite direction.

And besides, she tries convincing herself with every tentative step, if there's no Will, she can at least steal some food and then be on her way.

* * *

By the time she finds the settlement he'd spoken of, there's a light sprinkling of snow layering the roofs of each building. She warily steps closer, her sight continuously checking the area for any signs of movement, but she can't see _anyone_. She doesn't know if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.

The first thing she thinks of is food. She needs that, most definitely. Will can wait, but she's in dire need of some sustenance.

Her small size allows her to easily move from one building to the other, under the cover of cars and small walls. Rachel can't believe she's doing this, knowing full well that she should avoiding other people at all costs, but they have food and she certainly doesn't.

She wonders what'll happen if she's caught, though wishes that she wouldn't. Jesse _had_ been nice to her, something that she's not so used to, other than from Finn of course, but he's not going to act the same way when she steals more of his belongings. She quickly pushes those thoughts out of her mind as she tries to concentrate on finding where the food is stored. That's her only goal right now.

She is so hungry, desperately hungry. She hasn't eaten or drank anything for almost two days, and while her body is well accustomed to little food, she can feel the toll it's taking on her. Added with the recent trauma of losing Finn, she is in urgent need of something to keep her small body going.

Ignoring the intense and frantic beating of her heart, she embraces the adrenaline within her and slips into the nearest building through an unlocked window. Immediately, the warmth surrounds her, though she barely has time to focus on that as her eyes take in where she's suddenly found herself. The room appears as though it's used more for storage than anything else, seeing as her search comes up pretty empty handed. She does, however, force a small blanket into her backpack, along with a few blades she finds.

Then upwards she goes, whole body trembling. She just wants to get out of here and then be on her way, but first she needs food. Her stomach hungrily calls out for it, painfully so.

A small gasp escapes her lips as she hears voices, and she immediately dives into the nearest room, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dark. Rachel waits with baited breath until the voices are gone, fear gripping at her body so tightly that she feels frozen in place. She shouldn't have come here, she thinks. It's too dangerous and the fact that she's alone isn't helping the matter.

She can't help but think of Finn again, his image engraved into her mind. If only he was there with her, leading the way and pulling off the plan without letting his fears get to him. Silent tears brew in her eyes, wanting to fall, but she doesn't let them fall. Not now. If they do, they won't stop. If he were with her, then things would be so much easier.

Just as she's moving to leave the room, more voices appear. Rachel scurries away from the door, squeezing her eyes shut while she waits for them to go away. But they don't; they only grow in size, while her heart grows with fear. "Are you sure about what you saw, Andrea?" She freezes, her curiosity getting the better of her, as she inches closer, wanting to hear what's said.

"She definitely came this way."

Rachel now presses her body flat against the wall. They've _seen_ her, and now they're all probably looking for her. She feels sickness flood through her entire body, because even though Jesse had seemed nice, she doesn't know what to expect when _he's_ the one that's in control and not her. "Alright." This voice definitely belongs to the man himself, and as always is calm and collected, "go back to the others. But don't tell anyone else about the girl."

There's a hesitant moment. "What about –"

"_No one_," he insists, "capiche?"

She struggles to keep back her curiosity as to why he wants to keep her presence a secret. Surely he'd tell everyone, to make it easier to find her. But no. Maybe he really is trying to keep her safe, and with just him knowing there's no chance of anyone else attempting to hurt her. But despite how he appears at first, she knows that Finn wouldn't trust him, so she won't either.

Reaching out blindly, she feels around the room, hoping to find a safe hiding spot. It's difficult to make out shapes and objects, yet she fumbles further, thinking she's found a table, or a desk. In a hurry, she dives down and crawls beneath it on the hard floor, before dragging her knees up to her chest.

Huddled there, she strains to see the door, but still finds herself in blackness.

That is until it the door creaks open, light pouring in through the ever increasing gap. Her fingers slip into her pocket, lingering over the handle of her knife, eyes peering toward his boots as they begin a slow pace. "I know that you're in here," Jesse begins, voice almost taunting. "You're clearly not stupid, and I knew you'd follow us… try and steal some food."

She curses inwardly – was she really that obvious?

The air is thick around her, making it difficult to breathe. She scrunches her eyes closed, feeling stupid for coming here in the first place, but she'd been so scared and she had no idea what else to do. All Rachel wants is to be somewhere else; she'd rather still be in those woods alone than here, surrounded by threats.

Each footstep sends a shock through her body, causing the girl to shake, chest tightening uneasily.

"I meant what I said, you know. I'm not going to hurt you." She frowns, and moves further into her cover. "I just want to talk. Can we do that – talk?"

_Fuck no_, she thinks. She certainly doesn't want to be doing any talking with him; she doesn't want to be doing _anything _with him.

Jesse continues, despite her silence, "you're scared, I get that, but we'll look after you here. We have food, lots of it. The forest is great for hunting…if you come out, I can get you something to eat." Ignoring his words, all she focuses on are his footsteps as they move nearer to her, a barely there gasp moving past her lips when they suddenly stop, right before where she's hiding.

Her breaths as shallower than ever as the seconds disappear.

There's a shuffle of movement, and she squints one eye open to see what's happening. And an embarrassing squeak escapes from her when she finds herself face to face with Jesse. "Hello," he says smugly.

* * *

**Well, is Jesse going to be good or bad? We shall see.**

**Pleasr review :)**


	15. The waiting

**God, Finn and Rachel being separate is killing me! Thank you to everyone reviewing/favouriting/alerting. Hey, I love you for just reading this fic! :)**

**Thank you to Lucy for beta'ing!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Finn can barely keep his body still, waiting nervously for Blaine to get back. He feels sick, physically sick, and the only thing that can calm him down is Rachel, but she's still out there. What if she's lost? What if she's looking for him right now? His heart hurts, the distance between them physically paining him.

He _needs_ her. And each second without her is killing him.

Kurt slowly steps into the room, a tray in his hands. Finn doesn't miss the way he keeps staring at him as the tray is placed on his lap, face sympathetic. But Finn doesn't want any sympathy. He just wants Rachel.

"How are you feeling?" he asks while Finn practically wolfs down the food.

"I feel like shit," Finn shrugs, "everything hurts. But most of all I'm scared, and I'm sick of fucking worrying." He takes another mouthful of the meat, not remembering the last time he tasted something good. If he weren't so hungry, he'd eat the food slowly to savor the taste.

"They'll find her, Finn. They will."

It takes a moment for him to reply. "I dunno, she's pretty small. Easy to miss." It's supposed to be a joke, to cheer himself up, but all he succeeds in doing is making himself more miserable. Kurt doesn't smile either, and the room is suddenly filled with a thick silence.

He's still in shock, he supposes. Finn honestly thought that he was going to die at that point, but now he's here, alive and with only a broken arm. Sure his body is still worn, but he can feel his strength slowly returning. The biggest shock is about Blaine really, and he's happy that he's alive, he really is, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a lot to take in. He wonders if things would've been different if they'd caught up with him and Rachel. Maybe they wouldn't have been separated. Maybe they would have. All he knows is that thinking of all the 'what if's is beginning to torture his soul, and so he changes his train of thought.

"So this settlement," he begins, pushing away his empty tray (he's still hungry though - _starving_, actually) and looks back up to Kurt, "what's it like?"

Kurt now smiles again, "it's probably the best place I've seen since the outbreak; people working together to help each other. No infected, no fighting – well, except for when others try to steal from us, but we're in a pretty secluded area. It's rare to see another group." Finn nods, that's reassuring. It means that Rachel is less likely to run into anyone else until she's found. "Sam did say that there's another town north of here, but it's a good few hours away and the only time that we communicate with them is when either is running low on food."

It's strange, hearing about large groups working together in such a way when he's used to just stealing what he needs. Food, supplies. Hell, he'd even stolen that motorbike. Although, Finn can't deny that it sounds good, mirroring some form of society they once had. Maybe there is hope for humanity recovering to its former self after all, only with more appreciation for the things they have. He remembers how superficial some people had been before the outbreak, but now nobody takes anything for granted, and they never will, either.

"And Sam is the leader?" he asks curiously.

Kurt shakes his head. "We don't really have a leader, per se, but I guess if we had to give the title away it'd probably be Sue. She's… a real piece of work – it's no wonder she survived so long. But, it's thanks to her that this place exists."

When Finn stays quiet, he continues, "she started it years ago, and it grew from there really. It used to be a boarding school so it's huge, with enough rooms to spare, kitchens, even space outside for the kids –"

"There are children?" he asks in surprise.

"Yes," Kurt smiles, "it's safe here, Finn. It's protected by this huge wall, which we all take turns watching over, but most of the time there's nothing to protect us against. We've been here for weeks and all we've had to deal with is one team of bandits – that's it."

Finn allows himself to smile at that - living a life with barely any encounters of danger sound like something from his dreams. If only Rachel were with him to bask in the momentary happiness.

Kurt must see the way his shoulders sag, expression dropping, because he says, "you're thinking about Rachel again, aren't you?"

"How can I not think about her? I fucked up – it's my fault we got separated." He shakes his head in annoyance, eyes glaring at his comforter as though it has done him wrong.

"What exactly happened?" Kurt questions curiously, delicately placing himself on the side of the bed, "before that day in the radio tower, you two were attached at the hip." Finn's face saddens considerably, her absence painfully making itself known once again as his heart yearns for the girl. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…" Finn closes his eyes; he just _can't_ tell him, because that means reliving it for himself. And he really doesn't want to relive it. "Okay, you don't want to talk about it." Kurt seems a little deflated, but understanding.

"Well, would you?"

Tilting his head slightly to the side, he asks, "Wait, what?"

"If it were you and Blaine, would you want to talk about it?"

"But that's different." He insists, "Blaine and I. We're –"

"It's not different at all." Finn speaks firmly. When Kurt sends a questioning look his way, he says, "the way you feel about Blaine… that's the way I feel about her."

Waiting for a few hesitant seconds, he asks, "You love her?"

"I think so," Finn nods. He's not really sure what love is supposed to feel like, especially since there's such a lack of it nowadays, but the connection that's grown with Rachel is undeniably strong – he supposes that's why it's so scary, why he wanted to make sure that whatever happened between them would be right and feel good for the both of them. And he doesn't care that it's only been a few months of them together; it doesn't mean their feelings are less significant. If anything, being constantly around the other has only made the bond tighter, as they've seen each other at their best and worst times, and they still care in spite of that.

He can still feel that bond, even now when she's not physically there. Its presence gives him hope.

Now, Kurt smiles again, then gently places his hand on Finn's arm. "When we find her, you can tell Rachel that. I'm sure she'd love to know."

"She already knows," he suddenly speaks, the words flying from nowhere. Kurt's forehead creases in confusion. "I never told her but she… she always seemed to know me and just what I'm thinking. She's real smart, you know?" Finn then quietly repeats, "She'll know."

Rising to his feet, Kurt gently takes hold of the tray, "with any hope, they'll be back soon and they will have found her."

Finn just gives a solemn nod, not wanting to think about any other options.

"I've got to go," he gives an apologetic smile, "I'm actually really busy, but I just wanted to get some food to you. You didn't have any in your bag, so I guess you haven't eaten for a while." Finn's gaze now silently moves to his arm, a firm frown set to his expression. "You can get up and walk around a little if you're feeling up to it – we'll give you a tour of everything when you're up and on your feet."

"It won't be necessary," he says, "as soon as Rachel's found, we're leaving. I've got to get her to the Fireflies before anything worse happens."

"You can't, Finn. You're in no state to be travelling."

His head snaps up to look at Kurt, a "don't argue with me" expression glued to his face, but Kurt seems to be wearing the same one. "How on Earth are you supposed to protect her with a broken arm?" he raises an eyebrow, "or when you can barely stand up? Like it or not, you've got to get your strength back up, and that's going to take time." Kurt's hard expression suddenly softens, "I'll be back later to check up on you." And with that he's out of the room.

Annoyed, Finn clenches his fists together, because he can't exactly let his rage any other way. He's sick of people telling him that he needs to rest, that he's too weak. He doesn't care. He made a promise to get Rachel safely to the Fireflies and he's hell bent on doing it. He can't spend weeks in here – that'd just hold them back. What if the Fireflies move to another destination in those weeks and they lose them once again? Finn groans out with frustration, just wishing that things were simpler.

He sighs when he realizes Rachel will want him to rest, too. She may be determined to find the Fireflies just as much as he is, but like Kurt she won't want him travelling so vulnerably.

That sadness washes over him again as he thinks of Rachel. Finn sits back in his bed, hoping that Blaine's group do find her and they're reunited once more.

* * *

Rachel watches as Jesse paces back and forth, occasionally casting a dark glance over to where she's sat. She's fully aware that she could just run right now – Jesse didn't bother to tie her up or keep her restrained. But that's the most worrying thing. If he didn't do that, does it mean that he doesn't consider her a threat?

Well, he'd taken her guns (including the ones she'd taken from him and his friend) and her knife; even her other supplies, so she supposes she doesn't seem that much of a threat to him. Her eyes dart across to where her backpack lies limply on the other side of the table where she's sat. But her attention once again turns to Jesse. He doesn't seem angry, he looks rather pleased with him, though at the same time he's thoughtful. He's trying to figure out what to do with her, while she tries to figure out the same thing. Eventually, the silence gets too much for her to bear, and she the question slips from her lips. "What's going to happen now?" She internally kicks herself for sounding so weak, so small, but she's at Jesse's mercy, much to her distain.

At the sound of her voice, Jesse's head snaps up. He reaches out a hand calmly to the back of the chair opposite her, dragging it across the hard floor. Seconds later he's seating himself down, lips curving upwards as he looks to her. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't understand," she lamely mumbles, eyes dropping down to her hands. They're bruised with mud stains from the previous few days, seeing as she hasn't had a chance to clean herself off. She must look like a complete mess.

He moves from his straight posture to curve forward, leaning over the desk toward her. Now, Rachel can't help but watch him as he suddenly says, "why don't we introduce ourselves?"

She hesitates, then frowns. "I already know your name."

But he chooses to ignore her as he holds out his hand across the table. "I'm Jesse St James, leader of this settlement," he gives pause, eyes widening with reassurance as he says, "and I don't want to hurt you." At first, she eyes his hand as though it's something completely dangerous and deadly, repeating his words in her head over and over. She's at a loss of what to do, wondering whether being hostile will make the situation worsen and anger Jesse, but at the same time giving in and trusting him could be an even more fatal error.

What other choice does she have though? Going back to wandering through that forest? If she makes it back there, anyway. For one, she has no idea where Jesse had taken her once he'd found her, and in the time that she would be trying to escape, news would spread and she'd have more people after her. A sinking feeling hits her when she realizes the smartest thing to do is just play along, until the opportune moment appears for her to get out of here without anyone noticing.

So, despite herself, she stretches out her hand and wraps her fingers around his. "Rachel," she says mustering as much confidence as she can. But that's all she divulges. As she'd thought in the forest; the less he knows about her, the better.

"Rachel," he repeats with a smile. His other hand moves to clasp around their joined ones. "It's nice to meet you."

She doesn't return the sentiment. Jesse must sense her wariness, quickly changing his tactics. "You hungry, Rachel?"

Her expression must give it away because he chuckles, leaving the table and then returning a few moments later with a plate full of food. It takes all the strength she has not to snatch it from her his hands. Jesse inches the plate closer to her, then hands over an old, bent spoon with the tiniest smile.

Rachel forces herself to eat the food slowly, not knowing when the next time she'll have a meal will be. Jesse watches her intently, chin rested on his balled up fist; she tries to ignore his stare, but it scorches into her skin.

"So," he continues as she's finishing off the last slice of meat, "how did you end up in those woods by yourself?"

She freezes, definitely not wanting to talk about the separation from Finn. Instead, she gulps down the remaining food and says, "I was travelling with someone, but… we – it didn't work out."

Jesse's smile falters, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she nods, ducking her head so that he doesn't see the way her eyes shine with unshed tears. His hand finds hers again, his touch warm and strong, and for a moment she pretends it's Finn's.

"And why, may I ask, were you travelling through here? This place is pretty far away from well, _anything_."

"We were looking for the Fireflies."

"The Fireflies?" His eyebrow rises in surprise, and he leans back, fingers slipping from hers. "Why are you looking for them?"

She gives pause, remembering how insistent Finn was on keeping her immunity a secret; the only people he had ever told were Kurt and Blaine, but that's only because they trusted the pair. Does she trust Jesse enough to share her secret? She's only known him a matter of hours, though he has been kind to her, given her food, and has yet to harm her. Rachel decides to wait. She'll tell him, just not so soon.

"It's a long story," she settles with a small answer, observing his reaction. Unfortunately, there's little change to his smirk and he only gives a curt nod.

"I'm sure we'll get it out of you at some point," he says, to which she furrows her brows and cocks her head to the side in confusion. Then he says something that confuses her further, "now, until we can find an appropriate place for you, you can stay in my room."

Rachel physically recoils at his words. "_Stay_?"

But Jesse is already on his feet, gesturing for her to do so as well.

"Jesse –"

"Winter's upon us," he cuts her short, "and the winters here are cold and long – full of snow storms. If you go out there, you'll die." Rachel glances to where he points, catching sight of the snow falling heavily onto the already white ground. She feels her heart sink as she realizes that maybe she won't be able to leave as soon as she'd anticipated and she'll have to keep up this act for longer than a few days, weeks even. Any panic that she feels is kept calmly under the surface so that Jesse doesn't notice, because for him to trust her, he has to feel as though she trusts him in return.

He takes her silence as his answer, slowly reaching out to take hold of her arm, but Rachel flinches at his touch. A flash of something spreads across his face before he drops his hand, a smile returning to his face, "let's go."

"W-wait," she stops him just as he's reaching for the door. "I'm confused – I don't… you're supposed to be angry at me, you ought to want to hurt me because I tried to steal from you."

Jesse laughs, but it's more unnerving than it should be. "You really think I'm that heartless?"

"Everyone else that I've ran into has been, bar one or two."

"Come on, Rachel," he orders with another smirk. She follows him from the building, immediately shuddering when the cold air gushes past her, but she soon hurries after the man who seems eager to lead her to wherever they're going.

He suddenly holds out a hand to stop her, reaching out for her and flattening them both again the nearest wall. Her initial reaction is the want to shove him away, but she forces herself to remain static in his arms. A pair of men walk past, oblivious to where they're hiding. After what feels like ages, his grip on her relents, and she slowly slips away.

Her eyes must be questioning, because he suddenly says, "nobody else knows about your presence, and I'd prefer to keep it that way for now."

This confuses her even more, but she continues to play along.

And soon enough they're inside once more, she finds herself in his room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as he flitters back and forth. He's gone at the moment, to get her some new clothes, he'd said, and also to prepare her a bath. She peers down at her filthy clothes then reaches a hand up to her hair, which is tangled and knotted. No wonder Jesse is pitying her and letting her stay, in _his_ room. Rachel tries not to think anything of it, but there's just a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something isn't quite right. She knows she'll have to be as vigilant as ever while she's here.

She finds herself peering around his room; from the large bed to the few clothes stacked up on a shelving unit in the corner. There are no pictures, no personal touches to the room. It seems strange to her, but then Jesse himself appears rather odd in some aspects.

The door creaks open and he pokes his head inside, telling her that everything is ready. Rachel cautiously follows until they reach an old, small bathroom. Despite being as well maintained as possible, there are still cracks everywhere and stains covering the tiles on the floor. Jesse is right behind her as she stares at the bath filled half way up with water, before laying some new clothes over the sink basin.

He's gone then, and she waits until she hears footsteps moving away before she sheds her hoodie. Then her jeans and shirt follow. The cold nips at her skin, Rachel rushing to take off her underwear before she slips into the hot water. A soft moan escapes her lips as the warmth embraces her and she lowers herself until her hair is fully submerged. For a few minutes, she remains still, completely enjoying something as rare as a nice, hot bath. The warmth relaxes her overworked muscles, lulling her into a comfortable trance-like state.

When she finally sits up again, she's able to scrub most of the dirt from her skin. She pauses when her fingers brush over the scarred skin on her arm, eyes falling to the bite mark that is now clearly exposed on her skin. A frown tugs at her lips, her eyes moving to the next one just under her shoulder on her other arm. As with most things, it's just a reminder of the argument she had with Finn. This time, however, she doesn't have to force back the tears, which now freely roll down her cheeks and drop into the bath.

"I miss you," she chokes out, dragging up her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. She's drowned in sadness, feeling as though she can't breathe as her cries waver.

But before long she manages to gain control of the sobs, and she wishes that she could say for certain it won't happen again, but she honestly doesn't know. She slowly climbs from the tub and takes the small towel he'd given her. It's scratchy and old, but it's better than nothing as it dries her now freshly cleaned body.

She then picks up the new clothes, frowning when she realizes it's a _dress_. As she slips it on, she frowns when the light pink material stops just above her knees, and the sleeves that reach all the way down to her wrist. It feels so… strange and unfamiliar. Not to mention how impractical it would be when facing the infected.

Despite her reservations about her new clothes, she picks up the old ones and slowly steps from the bathroom, eyes peering down to Jesse who is sat in the floor, legs stretched out. As soon as he sees her, he jumps to his feet eagerly.

"You're looking better," he smiles, eyes slowly – _very_ slowly – moving over what feels like every inch of her body. Rachel shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not wanting him to look at her like that, ever. It's as though she is a piece of meat to him rather than a human being, but then again that's a look that a lot of men have given her.

"Thank you," she says quietly, once again telling herself to just stick to her plan, no matter how uneasy he makes her feel.

"I got you something else to eat," he says, beckoning for her to follow. She widens her eyes slightly in surprise. She's used to eating once a day at the most, and here she is getting her second meal in a matter of hours. Well, at least there are perks to this plan, she thinks as she slowly follows Jesse through to his room.

* * *

Finn moves around with caution on his wobbly feet, taking a break every few minutes before he's up again, determined to be in good health as soon as possible. It's tiring, sure, but he can't spend another second in that fucking bed, with his frustrations only growing stronger.

It's only when a couple of clear knocks to the door sound when he stops, dropping to the bed. "Yeah?"

It's Blaine, and from the look on his face he doesn't have good news. Before he can even speak, Finn is struggling against a strong batch of nausea at the thought of Rachel still being out there, in the middle of nowhere.

Kurt isn't with him this time – it's that blond instead. Sam, is it? Not that it matters, since all he's doing is giving him the same sympathetic look as Blaine. He doesn't want that, he just wants Rachel.

He barely pays attention to their words – "_searched for hours_" – "_no sign of her_" – "_I'm sorry"_ – because his mind is so full of thoughts about Rachel that it's hard to focus on anything else. He feels so empty, so lost without her, and he has to choke back tears as he remembers what he'd said to her.

_Just, please, promise me that you'll stay._

_I'm not going anywhere, okay?_

Well, he sure fucked that up, didn't he? If only he'd listened to her and gone back the way they'd walked, and altogether avoided that river. He feels so stupid right now, the blame a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Finn wants to apologize over and over to Rachel, but she's not here to apologize to, and it's all _his_ fucking fault.

"You have to look again," he begs, voice close to breaking, "you can't just leave her out there."

"Finn, everyone's tired. We can't go again today."

"Then tomorrow," he insists, rising to his feet. Blaine and Sam look slightly intimidated as he reaches his full height, but quickly gulp it down.

He watches the hesitance flash across Blaine's face.

"What? What's wrong with tomorrow?"

"It's just that – we already have so many things to do. We have to prepare for winter, and losing a quarter of the camp isn't going to help things." He knows that Blaine is right, but that doesn't change the fact that he can't accept that. He isn't about to stop looking just because there are "more important" things to do. Besides, nothing is more important to him than Rachel.

"Fuck that!" he doesn't mean to yell, it just kind of happens.

Blaine takes a step back, eyeing him warily. "Finn, calm down."

"No, I won't fucking calm down! Not until Rachel is safe with me."

"Rachel could be dead for all you know," he counters, instantly regretting it and lowering his head.

Frozen in the spot, Finn tries not to think about that. There goes that nausea again. But she's strong and she can most definitely hold her own. "Rachel is alive," he says lowly, eyes dark circles. And he doesn't know where she is, or why they can't find her, but she'll adapt. She'll keep fighting. The Fireflies is her cause and she knows that she needs to find Will in order to get there – she'll do it, he knows she will.

Blaine looks conflicted, eyes watery. Eventually, he says, "one more time Finn, that's all I can do. But after that… I'm sorry, but that's as many times as we can go."

He doesn't say anything after that. What would he say? If it were up to him they'd be out there every day trying to find her, no matter what, but it isn't up to him. Never will be. Blaine apologizes to him again before he's out of the room, leaving Finn to stew with his anger. It's probably best. He wonders if tomorrow he'll be able to go with them: he's walking now, and his arm only aches from time to time. He's had worse, much worse, but he supposes he'll have to wait and see. And hope, just hope that there's an outcome from tomorrow's search.

Because if there isn't he doesn't think he can ever give up on Rachel.

* * *

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